


Pistols at Dawn

by TruebornAlpha



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Betrayal, Cheating, Drug Use, Evil Keith (Voltron), Gangbang, M/M, Murder, Mutual Pining, Rape/Non-con Elements, Subterfuge, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-03-12 22:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13556556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: Keith is an undercover cop, desperate to take down the monsters that stalk the streets of his city. With his sights set on the Galra, a ruthless criminal organization, he finds himself caught in a web of lies and intrigue with no one but his handler Sergeant Shirogane to guide him.But to take down the Galra, Keith might lose everything. Including himself.





	1. Chapter 1

Every breath sent icy needles in his lungs, and Sammy stomped his feet to try and keep warm. The streetlight flickered, spilling light down the empty street in intermittent bursts, just enough to make the shadows move. The warehouses were a shitty part of town on a shitty night, but that had been the point. There was no one else out here, they were all safe and warm somewhere inside instead of freezing their balls off. The man breathed on his hands, the cloud easing the ache in his freezing knuckles for just a moment as he shifted again, jiggling in place.

This was the last time he was going to do this, no more cold nights or back alley deals. After this, he was going to the nearest bar and drinking something until he was warm inside and out, but this was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. A chance at expansion - once he got rid of a pest.

The man almost missed the quiet footfall, an almost silent scuff that had him straightening and shoving his hands in his pockets. He peered into the shadows down the street as the light flickered on and off. Still empty. The light died again and he breathed out a shaky sigh, but relief was short lived. As the light sputtered back to life, a figure pulled itself from the shadows only a few feet away, and Sammy bit back a scream. Theatrics, his contact always did like to make an entrance, he should have remembered that.

“Oy, you’re late.” He called out, adding extra bravado to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m not gonna stand here all night freezing for you.”

Nothing. Sammy swallowed thickly, tried to ignore the sweat that beaded across brow, despite how sharply the wind bit.

The Broker.

Some fancy name for a jackass kid that thought he was better than everyone else. A bloody reputation meant nothing on the streets, but at least his money was good. He hoped to get more of it. Sammy’d played him, and he’d come back for more. Besides, Sammy had an insurance policy, so to speak.

Behind him, one of his men shuffled. Woodrow and Wilson, like the president, both with a face like lumber and arms as thick as tree trunks. That wasn’t all, but it was almost good enough on all its own.

Growing impatient, Sammy snapped, “What'dya want? I got other people to meet, and your business ain’t the only one worth my time.”

“You screwed me over, Sammy. That was your first mistake.”

Sammy tensed, but he didn’t stop smiling. Woodrow had big fists. When he reached for his gun, there was nothing subtle about it. The Broker didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t care.

“Your second mistake was thinking I wouldn’t find out.”

The light flickered again and the Broker’s teeth glittered like fangs as his grin stretched beneath the shadows.

“Guess we’re doing this the old-fashioned way. Teach that fucker a lesson.” Sammy laughed, rolling his eyes, as the two brutes behind him took a step forward. As much as he would’ve liked the chance to bleed the Broker green, killing him would mean one less competitor out there. This was the beginning of something new, he was moving up in the world.

Beside him, Woodrow moved, all ruthless power and promised violence, the Broker’s head would look good crushed between his fists. Woodrow never got that far. He took one step forward and crashed to the ground moments, face down in the icy puddles. The Broker never moved.

“Your last mistake…” The Broker said calmly. “Was that you came at all.”

Wilson snarled, throwing himself at the figure. He didn’t need an order. His gun at the ready, thumb barely grazed the trigger before he fell. Scream still caught in his throat, body twitching on dirty ice. Then the Broker approached.

Sammy’s heart was in his throat, choking the air out of him, and he dragged in greedy inhales, spitting venom as he withdrew. “Stay back. Stay back!”

The shadows played over the Broker’s face, bleeding across his dark hair but never quite touching those sharp eyes.

“The cops are gonna be here any second,” Sammy snarled, raising his gun. “They’ll drag you to hell, you killed- you killed…”

“You mean Officers Clements and McConnell.” The Broker reached into his pocket. A sharp flick, and glimmer reflected off his knuckles, wrapped tight around a switchblade. “Think I wouldn’t know about a couple of crooked cops?”  

Sammy started to shake, but he raised his gun. The Broker was faster. All at once, there was a blade in his arm, and he dropped the gun with a cry. He  turned to run before he could second-guess himself. Suddenly he was slammed forward, hard enough to make his teeth rattle in his skull, pressed tight against the warehouse wall. Cold metal pressed against his throat.

“You fucked up Sammy. I’m giving you one last chance to fix this.  _When is the transfer?”_

“Y-you can’t have possibly known! You can’t!” Sammy’s body locked as the edge of the knife whispered across his skin, a few drops of warmth trickled down the inside of his pantleg. Tears gathered in his eyes as his chest seized, catching each frantic gasp for air as he drowned in terror. He’d planned so carefully, the cops had  _promised,_  and he’d passed along enough money to ensure their loyalty. No one had known, it was impossible for the information to have leaked.

He could feel the Broker’s toothy smile. “Are you going to make me ask again?”

Words spilled from Sammy’s mouth: secrets, confessions, rasping please for his life. The Broker’s knife had cut him open without even touching him. “Tomorrow at the Lion Gate restaurant downtown! They run poker games out of the back, a courier will deliver it then, but I don’t know any more than that. I swear! Please, I’m not lying, just let me go. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

The Broker slowly sheathed his blade as Sammy babbled and sobbed. “I don’t know why you couldn’t just tell me that in the first place, like we agreed. You didn’t have to make this so hard on yourself.”

Sammy nodded, slurring each word together as he begged. “I’ll never do it again, please just don’t kill me.”

“Betrayal isn’t something that I can just forgive, Sammy. I make my livelihood from information, what do you think would happen if I started getting it wrong? If you think you can screw me for a few extra bucks, well…” The Broker leaned close, feeling Sammy shake against him. “I can’t have that. I don’t want you to die, I want you to disappear. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you, your dipshit wife and that side piece you keep on Beek Street.”

Sammy waited with bated breath, caught between too many answers, but every time he tried to latch onto one, it slipped through his fingers. He took too long to respond.

The Broker snarled under his breath, shoving him away.  _“Go!”_

Everywhere he touched felt like ice. Sammy watched him fade into the shadows, his pride cutting like broken glass around his feet.

He hated him. He hated him! He breathed in once, hate like copper on his tongue. His arm ached like a bitch, but metal gleamed on the ground. His gun. It was right there, if he could just-

Before Sammy could make a grab for it, something heavy slammed between his shoulder blades, throwing him to the ground. His head slammed into the asphalt, thoughts ringing like bells, and he knew no more.

The woman pulled herself to her feet, looking at her victim with vague disapproval, like she’d stepped in something sticky. “I told you to watch your back.”

Ahead of her, the Broker shrugged, lazy insolence and baitful bravado. “I was. That’s how I knew you had it.”

“Dammit Keith.”

“We’re not much of a gang if I couldn’t trust you to do your jobs.” He said simply as the woman glowered. Another figure stepped from the darkness, lithe and graceful where the first had been muscular and intimidating. She cocked her hip and rolled her eyes, tugging on her long ponytail.

“Ignore him, Zeth, you know how he is. He just needs the girls to step in and do all the work for him.” She said with a laugh as the larger woman sneered. Keith flashed them both a grin.

“I just like to think about it as sharing the fun. If I didn’t let you get a hit in, I doubt you’d want to spend such a lovely evening freezing your ass off with me in a bad part of town. Plus, remember the last time? Zethrid didn’t get to hit anyone at all and I could tell she was disappointed.” Keith pointed out.

“True.” Zethrid cracked the knuckles on her hand. “Though I like it when they fight back. Even Ezor could have taken this one down.”

“Hey!” Ezor pouted her lips and jabbed her elbow into her friend’s ribs. “I do just fine on my own. I took down the other two, so that means I got double what you did tonight.” She taunted before throwing Keith a sly look. “Though somebody kept the cops off our back. How did you know about that little trick, boss?”

“Same way I always do.”

Ezor huffed. 

Zethrid wouldn’t let her simmer. She nudged the closest lump with the edge of her boot, smile far too pleasant to be sincere. “Want me to get rid of them?”

“No. Just make sure the cops have reason to keep them.”

Zethrid frowned, nudging a little harder this time, her mouth pinched.

“But he’ll talk.”

Keith exhaled deeply, already walking away. “If you want his tongue, I won’t stop you.” He sounded bored. That might have been why Zethrid reconsidered.

Keith kept walking. Whether Zethrid left incriminating bags of powder or sated her bloodlust in the most disappointing way, it was always better than he didn’t see. Ezor slipped into place beside him, her smile just shy of cutting. Keith doubted she’d forgiven his secrecy, but she hadn’t held it against him yet.

“What’s next?”

“There’re some loose ends I need to check up on, but if this intel’s good, you’ll know before noon.”

Behind them, there was a heavy thump. For once, the Broker was better off not knowing.

 

* * *

 

Keith pushed open the door to his apartment and kicked off his shoes, shucking his clothes and his personality like snakeskin. He reached for a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a long drag to ease the lingering adrenaline that still hummed in his veins. The flickering neon lights out of the window cast dancing ghosts across the floor in silent disco rhythms. Three years and he still couldn’t remember to shutter his blinds before he left.

He moved to the kitchen, trailing a thin wisp of smoke behind him as he pulled open the refrigerator and sighed. He knew he’d forgotten something. A cold bottle of beer was as good a meal as any, and he closed the refrigerator door behind him, rummaging in the drawer for a bottle opener.

The floor creaked behind him, and Keith waited a beat, flipping the cap off his bottle before whirling, weapon in hand like it’d materialized out of thin air. The looming figure didn’t so much as flinch as Keith brought the tip of his knife against the man’s throat.

“You keep sneaking up on me like that, I might not be able to stop my blade one of these days.”

“Of course you would. Is that your dinner?”

Then there was a hand at his wrist, familiar and easy as it pushed away the blade, and when Keith looked up, it was to see the warmest brown eyes he’d ever known. They crinkled at their corners when Shiro smiled.

A thousand words danced on the tip of his tongue.

_This again?_

And

_Don’t ask questions you know the answer to._

And

_Thank god you’re here thank god thank god._

Keith tilted his chin up in open defiance, his lips curving into something that couldn’t decide to be kind. “How long were you waiting in the dark this time?”

Shiro snorted through his nose and jabbed Keith out of the way to stare into the closest cupboard, even if they both knew what was in it. “This is sad, where’s your phone?” He didn’t wait for a reply, patting Keith down with practiced ease. “Takeout’s on me.”

“Hey!”

A hand slipped into his front pocket. Keith pinched him as hard as he could, just to make Shiro yelp, but he was grinning, and dammit that was just what Shiro wanted. “You’re bossy tonight.”

“Sergeant Bossy to you.”

Keith scoffed, but he brought up his bottle and let Shiro have the first sip of beer. Shiro took a step closer before he obliged, trapping Keith against his counter, the smooth cotton of his slacks warm against Keith’s legs. Shiro’s hands smoothed down his thighs, then up his chest and across his arms. He plucked the cigarette out of Keith’s unfeeling fingers and tossed it into the sink. Keith sighed and felt it all the way to his toes.  

“Thanks for taking care of Clements and McConnell,” he murmured, softer now. He didn’t mean to be. “Went exactly like we planned.”

“What plan? You just assumed that I was going to take care of them for you. It was risky.” Shiro murmured, caught between admonishing Keith and the feel of his body beneath him.

“Please, people are easy when you know their secrets. I knew Sammy was going to double cross me, I knew my girls would put him down, I knew you would be a good handler. You telling me I shouldn’t trust you?”

“People aren’t puppets, Keith. If I hadn’t gotten your message in time or if I wasn’t able to convince the higher ups that Clements and McConnell were dirty-”

“Then you would have found another way.” Keith wrapped a hand around Shiro’s tie and pulled him down. “Stop worrying so much. I did exactly what you taught me to, I took charge.”

Guilt flickered in Shiro’s dark eyes, lips parted as Keith expertly played along his desires. “You’re an undercover cop, you forgot that tonight. You’re too deep into this persona.”

Keith silenced him with a kiss, hand twisting tighter around linen and cotton until guilt melted into need and he could feel Shiro shift against him. He hid his smug smile against Shiro’s lips, making his partner dance the same as everyone else. 

“Weren’t you supposed to order dinner for us?” He asked huskily. With a groan, Shiro detangled himself from Keith’s grip and took a step back, running a hand through his mussed hair and putting the safety of distance between them.

“Pizza or Chinese?”

“Surprise me.”

Keith brushed passed him into the living room. Wary of prying eyes, he closed all the blinds before flopping into his couch. He drowned out the sound of Shiro’s voice with the television, flicking through just to see the colors change. Sunny days on the weather channel, someone with a nice dress on a red carpet on the next, Jacob Freer and the mayoral race right after a cooking that didn’t need to be as dramatic as it was.

Footsteps shuffled into the room. Keith didn’t look away from the screen.

“I left the tip just before I drove here. The cops are gonna pick up Sammy and his friends. Can you make sure they keep him?” Keith asked, voice light enough to be noticed. “I’m playing your game.”

Shiro inhaled sharply, almost drowned out by an aggressively cheerful real estate commercial. Keith flicked past. He didn’t want to think. Shiro didn’t let him.

He’d reached out and cupped Keith’s chin, forcing his head back. Strong fingers curled around Keith’s throat, metal and synthetic skin never as warm as the real thing, but when Keith swallowed, it still felt so snug. Then Shiro was kissing him, kissing him like he was trying to prove a point. Firm and demanding, tongue slick against his own. Keith let him take everything. Keith fell back with Shiro’s hands under his shirt, warm everywhere they touched.

It was artless, driven by simple needs that lit Keith on fire. He leaned back to give Shiro better access, gleefully yanking off his handler’s tie and letting it flutter to the floor. The precinct should’ve let him out hours ago. Keith thought Shiro only kept it on so Keith could take it off. Well-practiced hands knew how to undo every button of Shiro’s control, parting it the same way he did the fabric around his broad shoulders and running his hands down the hard muscles and scarred skin of his chest. There was a lifetime of stories written there and Keith had only managed to uncover a few, the rest a familiar mystery begging to be solved.

Keith was quick and efficient as always, shucking Shiro’s clothes to the floor. The heavy badge stuffed in Shiro’s pocket thudded against the worn wooden slats, and he hesitated before Keith pulled him down into a kiss to force a surrender. Shiro went willingly, laying Keith bare of all his tricks and lies with an almost reverence that left him giddy. For all Shiro’s tight-fisted control, it was a rush to watch him crumble.

“You have to be more careful.” Shiro whispered against his collarbone, nipping the skin until Keith gasped with strangled laughter. “Be patient, stop risking so much.”

“You mean careful like fucking your subordinates?”

Shiro snarled, catching Keith by the arm, pinning his wrists into the cushions and Keith arched into him with a gasp.

He could feel Shiro, thick across his belly, separated by too much but bearing down with goading friction. It couldn’t be enough for either of them, and Shiro felt like silk on his tongue. Keith bit down.

Shiro shuddered, shock splintering through his defenses, and Keith pushed him away. He grabbed at the table, left the drawer hanging open, blindly searching for the bottle and condoms they both knew was there. Shiro slammed into him from behind, covering him with heat. The edge of the table dug into Keith’s waist as he was bent over. Shiro tore at his clothes with clumsy fingers, and Keith refused to help, let every sensation wash over him, his shirt still shucked up around his shoulders, pants tangled around his ankles when Shiro pushed in.

“Shiro.” Like a prayer as Shiro worked his fingers in, two at a time, and Keith bucked against him, panting for breath. Not their first time, not by a long shot but it burned going in, and even as Keith bore down, his knees felt weak. Shiro never stopped.

“You’re quiet, detective.” Laughter tickled against Keith’s cheek. His cock pressed against Keith’s hip, the promise hot like a brand, and Keith wanted so badly, he could tear Shiro apart.

“ _Fuck you._ ”

“Maybe later.”

Three now, knuckles deep, quick and dirty and tension dragged through his shoulders everywhere Shiro touched. He left open-mouthed kisses just above Keith’s collar, left it stretched and loose where he tongued at soft skin. Keith’s nails dragged across varnished wood, trying to find purchase when Shiro made him see stars.

“Shiro Shiro dammit just-”

His back bowed, the sudden emptiness ricocheting through Keith’s nerves, absence like a punch, and Keith was reeling. Shiro tore through him like a storm.

He thrust in smooth and sure, and Keith’s mouth fell open as he was stretched, throat working as he choked on Shiro’s name. Even now, he clung to the shreds of his control, hips moving in a measured and teasing rhythm, heedless of the way Keith’s gentle pleas turned into vicious curses. He carved open a place for himself, spearing Keith open further and further. Each drag sent shudders through Keith’s body as he lifted his hips to meet Shiro’s.

“Come  _on_!” He hissed as Shiro laughed at the petulance in his voice. Shiro just pulled out, the thick head of his cock swelling at Keith’s entrance before sliding free. Keith turned over his shoulder, transfixed as Shiro slicked more lube across it, sliding in wet and easy and so maddeningly slow, he could’ve screamed.

Keith tried to buck up, tried to move, and Shiro yanked hard on his hair, forcing his head back so sharply, Keith wheezed. 

“Patience.” Shiro warned, little more than a growl, his teeth pinching against the cut of Keith’s jaw.

Keith bore down around him, squeezing tight enough to startle a gasp from Shiro’s mouth that he swallowed down with vicious victory. That was too easy, Shiro couldn’t help himself but rise to the bait. Strong hands gripped Keith’s hips, holding him in place as Shiro rammed in, claiming everywhere he could reach. It was just this side of too much, too thick, too hard, metal hand gripped with almost enough force to bruise, but Shiro would never. They couldn’t risk any marks that would give away anything of Keith’s real life when he was undercover.

Keith didn’t have the same restrictions, nails clawing red ribbons across Shiro’s hips, trying to reach as far behind him as he could. He caught Shiro’s lip between his teeth and bit down, savoring the spill of copper across his tongue and the rattling groan deep in Shiro’s chest, frustrated for any satisfaction with his cock leaking over his thighs.

He could move, left with nothing but the force of Shiro coring him open. His body jerked with every deep thrust, struggling to keep up as Shiro’s rhythm faltered, erratic with force, Keith’s knees digging painfully into the floor.

Shiro reached for him, stroking too tightly and too fast, hands sticky with warmth, and Keith cried out, tightening around him until Shiro groaned.

He could feel it all the way down as Shiro came in him, every breath a ragged, desperate drag. Shiro’s grip loosened, uncoordinated and graceless like he so rarely let himself be, and that sent Keith over the edge, hissing under his breath as pleasure simmered through his body.

They laid like that for a moment too long, sweat cooling on their skin, Keith’s spill beaded across his belly. Shiro withdrew, leaving him hollow and gaping, his breath condensing across the table, as Keith silently begged for a moment more, but more of what he didn’t know. Shiro coaxed him closer then, pressing a tender kiss against his mouth. Shiro always kissed him afterwards. Keith pretended he didn’t notice.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

They tensed, eyes too wide, the worst already expected. 

“Fuck.”

They detangled quickly, Keith’s knee banging against the open drawer. He cursed up a storm as Shiro chuckled, tying up his condom and digging through his pants pockets. He slipped Keith a few bills. Keith looked away, as if he cared to count how much he’d gotten and pretended he didn’t see Shiro reach for his gun.

“For another twenty, I’ll suck you off.” 

Shiro flushed red, so shocked that Keith had to laugh. He put a hand to Shiro’s ruined mouth before sliding off and rising to unsteady feet. An old blanket served as a makeshift toga as Keith reached for his knife and inched towards the door. His knees buckled, boneless with satisfaction, and Keith let himself hold the wall for support. Only once.

He had no reason to believe that Shiro would follow him. Keith believed it anyway. Keith counted down with his fingers as he reached for the door.

_Three._

_Two._

_One._

He yanked open the door.

“Yo, that’ll be $17 bucks for the pizza.”

There was something deliciously satisfying about how the delivery man wouldn’t even look at him. Pizza was almost enough to cover the smell of sweat and sex that lingered like a second skin.

Stone-faced, he paid, daring him to look when he refused to meet Keith’s eye, or Keith’s face, or Keith’s anything. Afterwards, Keith slammed the door so hard, it felt like the house quaked.

Shiro was waiting for him on the couch, his posture loose with lazy satisfaction and the worst of their mess gone. Keith dropped the pizza boxes unceremoniously on the table. He could still see the lines where Shiro’d wiped it clean.

Keith fell into the opposite end, grunting noncommittally as he lowered his blankets. Shiro was watching him. Keith let him look his fill.

Then there was a tug on his knee, firm but no longer demanding. That was okay, Keith thought he could be persuaded. Shiro put him on his back, settled between his knees. He pressed a kiss to Keith’s abdomen, just below his ribs, his eyes hooded as he looked up at him through impossibly long lashes. Whatever this spell was, Keith didn’t want to break it.

He let Shiro clean him up, kiss away the mess on his belly, a salve across Keith’s fevered skin. He moved lower and lower, exploring with lips and tongue until Keith couldn’t watch him anymore. His cock had the audacity to twitch, like he could get hard again just because Shiro’s breath puffed against his skin. A sound caught in Keith’s throat, strangling him as it burst free. Whatever it was, it made Shiro smile as he moved back up.

“I should go.” He murmured, pressing the words into Keith’s neck who arched beneath him.

“Then go.” Love was a weakness, a noose around the neck just waiting for someone to pull it tight. Keith didn’t mind giving the rope a tug just to see Shiro twist.

“Hm.” Shiro didn’t answer, silencing Keith’s cruel mouth with a kiss. “Eat something and then sleep. I’ll make a few calls and take care of the mess you left me.”

“What I did was get you information on a major deal about to go down tomorrow night. This Quintessence shipment’s gonna be enough to shut down Addler for good. If we find out where the source is, it might even get you promoted.” Keith had been targeting Addler for months. It was hard running a smuggling ring when the police kept figuring out your secrets, but they weren’t the big players. 

“You actually got something out of your meeting to make it worth the paperwork?”

“Patience yields focus, Shiro. Just let me talk.” Keith snarked as Shiro’s lips pressed into a thin disapproving line. “Sammy said the shipment is going to be at the Lion Gate restaurant tomorrow, there’s some kind of gambling tournament they set up in the back. I thought I could talk my way in and-”

“And charge in, getting yourself killed? We need to scope out the place first, get back up, make sure we can set up operations close by.” 

Keith made a face. If he wanted to find out how Quintessence was getting into the city, this was his best chance. “We have until tomorrow, I’ll be fine. I have my girls with me and the Broker knows enough secrets to make him dangerous.”

“Stop it, Keith. There’s a right way to do this.”

“Or you could just trust me.” He said as Shiro pulled away, but Keith refused to let go, tangling him in a knot of blankets and limbs until there was no escape. Rough hands stroked through Shiro’s dark hair, tracing every nob down his neck and back. “If you’re just going to lecture me, then you can just go. I don’t need you to stay.”

He waited a beat, but Keith knew he’d already won.

“I wasn’t kidding about that promotion,” he said at length, his voice husky with pride. It had taken a long time to get where they were, and every one of his victories were Shiro’s as well. “You could get your own task force.”

Shiro swallowed thickly. “And maybe you could come home.”

Keith ran his hand through Shiro’s hair, smoothing back sweat-damp strands, watching white and black spill through his fingers. Shiro’s expression softened, full of too much hope that the scar across his face only turned tragic. Keith hated it.

“Maybe.” He said slowly. “Maybe there’s more that I could-”

“You’re not going after the Galra.” Shiro shut him down before he could think of another argument, just like he’d shut down every other one. Keith’s mouth pinched into a hard line, the warmth of their evening rapidly dwindling.

“Someone has to.”

At least Shiro didn’t disagree.

“I should go.” Shiro repeated, like a sigh. 

Keith didn’t say a thing.

Shiro didn’t leave. 

They shared pizza on the couch, passing greasy slices and settling in to watch worthless television. It didn’t matter what was on, just that they could curl together and pretend that it was normal. That their lives together sometimes extended beyond this one room. When they were done, Keith stood and let the blanket slip from his body, using it as a lure to drag Shiro to the bedroom with him. He took his hands and pulled, stopping only when Shiro winced slightly.

“Does it hurt again?”

“I brought- it’s fine.”

Keith narrowed his eyes as Shiro rubbed at his shoulder. It’d been some kind of accident on the job, the sort of thing that could happen to anyone. Keith didn’t ask and Shiro didn’t care. What mattered was what it had left behind, or maybe what it didn’t.

Keith walked towards his bedroom. There was a pause, but Shiro followed him anyway.

 

* * *

 

It was well into the night when Shiro slipped out of the apartment, hat low over his face, jacket tucked under his arm. Too late for polite company, but around this part of town, no one was looking to be polite. He’d left Keith asleep, blankets tucked tight around him in a too warm nest, and didn’t think about how good it’d be to spend the night.

He didn’t park his car anywhere nearby. He already had a route in mind. This time he’d catch the bus from a stand two blocks away. He never made the same trip twice. When a car slowed in front of him, cutting off his path, Shiro forgot to breathe.

The window rolled down, just enough that he could see a pair of deep violet eyes and a sleek cut of platinum blond hair. In the darkness of the vehicle, he could see the pearly white smile of another figure, and his heart dropped to his knees.

“Sergeant Shirogane.”

“Lotor.”

The door opened. Shiro stepped inside.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, Keith called Zethrid. She was violence and indomitable force with a shark’s grin to match. It didn’t matter that Ezor could provide the same, no one ever asked Zethrid to prove it. He made trades, small ones, on the sort of secrets that kept their world turning even if Keith didn’t always break even. 

The Broker had a reputation for accuracy. He built it with consistency and discretion. Informants had their own stigma, but above all else, the Broker could be depended on one thing. He never went to the cops.

Honor among thieves was only true in the movies, but resentment shared among thieves was real enough. They worked together to claw what profit they could bleed out of the city, knowing full well that the only ones getting rich were the ones at the top. Politicians or businessmen, it didn’t matter. They weren’t local.

A little voice in Keith’s head told him that he had enough, that he could be satisfied with the Broker’s success and all that followed. It sounded a lot like Shiro. That made it easier to ignore.

In the evening, Keith called Ezor. A little charm could go a long way.

Lion Gate was waiting for them.

“Aww, sweet thing, smile,” she said, showing him how, pearly whites on full display as she twirled in lace and satin. Keith had once seen her bite off a man’s ear. He still didn’t know where she kept her gun. She looked him up and down, as swiftly and as devastatingly as the crackle of electricity. Her voice never shifted. “Relax, boss. You’re going to wrinkle my dress.”

“I am relaxed.” 

Ezor scoffed. She sauntered over, glossy ponytail swinging behind her as she ran her hands down the front of his suit jacket to smooth it down. For the thousandth time, Keith promised himself that he would protect her and Zethrid when this was over, and they finally shut down the operation. Her loyalty should be rewarded with something other than a jail cell.

“Why are you pouting again, doesn’t your face ever do anything else?” She teased.

“Just stick to the plan.” 

“You’re no fun.”

“You know I’m lots of fun. That’s why you stick with me.”

“Well, it can’t be your personality.” 

The Lion Gate was one of the fanciest restaurants in Chinatown, a landmark with both residents and tourists who came to see its gaudy pointed roofs and live koi pond in the middle of the floor. It had a bloody history from prohibition to the mafia, and guests came in the hopes of rubbing shoulders with its old ghosts over dumplings and lo mien. Its reputation was well deserved and less history than most people could guess.

They ignored the flashing lights of the main entrance, and went around the back, where the alley was dark but suspiciously clean. Inside, there was a man with thick wrists and an unflinching stare to pat them down and take their weapons. Neither of them argued.

Daniel Li owned the Lion Gate, a respectable business man with no loyalties to anyone except Daniel Li. He liked to keep a blind eye to what was happening in his basement. Mostly. It was safe haven, of sort. Kept the cops off the backs of those who could afford it, if they kept money in his pocket.

Keith had dinner on the main floor once. It was nice. High ceilings, lots of red and gold, exquisite roast duck. The basement was another monster entirely.

A high-waist bar stood in the center, its base cut in geometric shapes and backlit by red. The floor was tightly packed. Waiters swanned between tables set for four with trays overladen with drinks. No one was eating. Shifting mahjong tiles clapped like off-beat castanets, almost enough to drown out the music.

They took a seat where the bar turned at the elbow, facing each other. Facing opposite directions.

Ezor waited just long enough for Keith to place an order, and started reciting. “Two of Goodwin’s on the far right, three down. Grey, red tie, and black on black. Looks like O'Flanagan’s two lower, blue strapless, table full of hands. Hm.” She turned to him, winked. “And Zethy says hi, she’ll keep us warm.”

By the fire exit then, Keith assumed, he didn’t check. He’d memorized the layout of the entire building hours before, doing your homework on a job like this was the key to surviving it. Over Ezor’s shoulder, his eyes swept the room, picking out familiar pawns and players. Lion Gate was popular for attracting like-minded individuals. Sometimes attendance was a matter of coincidence. Sometimes it wasn’t.

“Second corridor on my left,” he murmured under his breath, watching a waiter disappear down its path. “Double check that’s the delivery bay. I’ll find us a table.”

A convenient table.

Keith settled into his chair like a spider in a web, closing his eyes to let the voices wash over him. Police protocol demanded that he wear some kind of wire or earpiece to stay in contact with the tactical support that was hidden somewhere outside, ready to rush in when he gave the signal. Inefficient and useless. If he was going to die, backup would never get to him in time. In a place like this, he lived on cunning, and it was an exhilarating rush. The others never could understand what it felt like, Shiro certainly didn’t.

Beside him, two men argued over cards, though that just covered for the simmering tension between them as one fished for answers of a more personal nature. Looked like someone’s girlfriend had found a new plaything. Across the room, a woman downed another shot of something deep amber and expensive with just enough flash to hook a mark without being too obvious about the bait. The Goodwin boys were easier to read, red faced and sweaty as they clinked their tiles, ignoring the predatory glances their good luck garnered.

Almost all of the petty players in the city’s underbelly were represented, scrubbed up and presentable. Oddly calm as well, as if the magic of money had dampened their hostilities enough to bring them together. It was liking having a drink in a pit of vipers.

But there was one lamb in the mix and he drew Keith’s eye without meaning to. The man leaned against the wall, body relaxed and at ease, dressed in dark tailored clothes cut to show his body. He projected the same arrogant power as everyone else in the joint, but for the nervous drumming of his fingers, the way his eyes darted. 

The Broker made a living out of sensing trouble. The man looked like he was dreading it, but when their eyes met across the room, he smiled. Bleached blond hair, strong square jaw and the sort of mouth that made Keith think twice. Keith looked away, but not fast enough. When the man slipped into Ezor’s seat, Keith pursed his lips.

“Hey, buy you a drink?”

“Pass.” Keith said, without looking up. The bartender came over, dropping the order he’d made earlier.

“Then maybe you buy me one. If you’re looking for a date.” Keith scowled, looking into dark eyes, blown so wide they were almost black. 

Oh.

Keith looked him over again, more intently this time. Sweat beaded out across the man’s brow. This close, there was a weakness to his smile, like it was held up by toothpicks **.** Keith recognized the glassy look in his eyes, he’d seen it in Shiro’s before when he tried to overcome need with sheer willpower and withdrawal crawled across his nerves. It was a losing fight, but it struck something inside. Keith should’ve said no. Keith should’ve done a lot of things.

He’d spoken in almosta purr, all sultry and sensual, and Keith just scrunched up his face. Rolo straightened instantly. He couldn’t have moved faster if Keith had pushed him. 

“Didn’t mean to offend,” he said breezily, but his gaze had lost its warmth, darting too quickly, one hand balled into a fist, ready. And Keith saw. He grit his teeth, sighed but softly.

“It’s fine just, just sit there.” He grumbled quickly. “How much for you to just sit there?”

“A hundred.”

Keith bit back a laugh. Afraid or not, the man had his eye on the deal and Keith could respect that. He pulled out a wrinkled bill. The money disappearing before Keith could even see it. Something shone in the man’s eyes, desperation and hunger. Those were easy strings.

“You don’t like it here?”

The man lost his smile, but it flickered back on gamely enough. “Not my first choice, but the company makes it worth it. Call me Rolo, or whatever you want tonight.”

“Rolo.” Keith echoed. “Work here a lot?”

“Often enough. Better clientele. People are always looking to celebrate after a good night.”

“I’ll bet.” Keith pushed a glass over towards Rolo who downed it without hesitation. “So you can give me a hand?”

Rolo fluttered his sooty lashes. “And a whole lot more.”

Keith wrinkled his nose. “See that table over there? With the really loud redhead.” A nameless, unimportant Irishman burst out laughing. Keith would’ve bet he was a tourist who got lucky, but his seat was awfully convenient. “I want to take his money. Can you get me a seat at that table?”

Rolo’s eyes widened, then narrowed. He hesitated long enough that Keith knew he was trying to play coy. “It’ll cost you.”

“I’m good for it.”

“I like that in a man.” Rolo smiled, and Keith wondered what it would look like if it reached his eyes. He was no Ezor Keith decided. He was heavy-handed, and overeager, but he knew his targets. He struck up a conversation with a pretty little thing that was only too eager to follow. He gave Keith a meaningful look ( _sloppy_ , Keith added), but he left Keith a space to fill. The Irishman laughed when he sat down. Keith bought him a drink, and let him win a round.

Clear laughter caught his attention and Keith opened his eyes as Ezor sauntered closer, her hand lightly touching the arm of the man next to her. She couldn’t have been more obviously playing him if she strung him like a guitar. “Oh, Freer for sure.” She grinned toothily. “If can’t trust an old town boy to take care of us, who can you?“

Her mark was hanging on her every word, but her eyes met Keith’s for the briefest of moments. She nodded, baring her throat in a way that made her target’s blood race. If he didn’t know her, Keith wouldn’t have thought she’d noticed him at all. She left his line of sight just as Rolo came back.

Less than subtle, he tried to drape himself over Keith’s shoulders like a shawl. Keith brushed him off, and pulled him up a chair instead. “Just sit here and look pretty.”

When the Irishman made eyes at him, Keith made a note to get his number. Patronize the business as it was. The rounds kept going. Their table changed another player. Keith won. Keith lost. Keith watched.

When a figure opened the door that lead to the delivery bay, he was ready.

He put a hand on the small of Rolo’s back, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Want to make another sale?”

To his credit, Rolo never startled. Keith wondered what he could have been and chided himself for it. On a napkin, he scribbled  _Chavanni. 12517. For those Good Winners._  Then he tucked a bill into it. He let Rolo see, it wouldn’t matter.

 

His grip tightened. “There’s a woman in a blue strapless dress with black hair in a bun. Make sure she gets this, then get out of here. Don’t turn back.”

Rolo looked doubtful, but his eyes were wide, and Keith knew he was going to take the money. “Should I-”

He didn’t ask. Keith thought he was smart for that.

Keith didn’t watch as Rolo walked away, but didn’t doubt that Ezor would. Anticipation raced through his blood, his hands itching around his sweating glass. It was easy to pull the strings. When chairs scraped across the floor, and someone behind him threw the first punch, he started moving.

No one stopped him on the way to the back. From somewhere, he heard Ezor crying out, then the rapid-fire of her accent-less Chinese, but he was Orpheus and temptation wouldn’t hold. No one stopped him until he got to the delivery bay.

The bike courier wore no uniform, and there was no logo on his wares. He startled. “Hey, you’re not-, no one’s allowed back here.”

He hit the ground with a thud.

Keith smashed his fist into the courier’s mouth even if he cut his bruised knuckles on the man’s teeth. Protests turned to pleas faster than he expected as shaky hands reached up to him. Keith grabbed him by the front of his jacket and hauled the courier up into his face. “Who sent you?”

“M-man, I haven’t done anything!”

Another crack of bone against bone sent the courier’s head snapping back and left him reeling. Blood slid down the side of his face as he half-gasped babbled excuses. “I don’t know, I don’t know! I-I just deliver shit, I don’t ask questions.” 

It was a shame that Keith believed him. Without a word, Keith slammed the courier against the wall until he went limp and slid to the floor. He knelt beside the unconscious form and started rummaging through the courier’s pockets. People always knew more than they thought they did, but Keith didn’t have much time.

Whatever package he’d been carrying was gone, delivered or hidden where there wasn’t time to search. Whoever was moving Quintessence through the city wouldn’t have kept logs of his shipments. The shoes were expensive though, and looked brand new. It was a little unexpected that a bike courier would keep them so clean. Wait, where was the bike? How had he gotten here if he didn’t have a ride?

Then Keith heard it.

Sharp and brutal, the unmistakable sound of gunfire as a good plan went sideways. For a moment, everything stopped, a blaze of heat twisting in his chest. The Broker couldn’t afford fear, but Keith’s people were outside, not defenseless but unarmed.

Then the door burst open, and Keith lost any choice he could’ve had. There were two of them at once, hidden in black cloth masks, and Keith lunged, catching the first by surprise, sending his gun spinning across the floor. They grappled for control, but the other gunman went straight for the courier. That changed everything.

Keith slammed into his assailant hard, knocking him off his feet just enough that he could pull away, grabbing at his partner. Anything to stop him. The mask came lose, just enough for Keith to make out sharp, angular features and wild eyes. A face he’d only seen in mugshots.  _Throk_. The Galra were here.

Before Keith could think, pain bloomed across his skull. The world went black.

 

* * *

 

“Boss… Boss!”

“Keep him steady, dammit!”

Lights above him spun overhead, his body throbbing with pain. Zethrid’s hand was smooth against his cheek. He couldn’t make out her face. There were sirens in the distance.

He blinked blearily, trying to make the world swim into focus. The bar was in chaos. Someone was crying. Lights flickered on and off. Those who fell hadn’t gotten back up. On the floor, Rolo’s blank eyes stared back, empty and lifeless as the bullet hole in his forehead. Keith struggled to move as the world spun.

“You can’t let these grunts get to you.”

Keith closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

There were voices, the quiet sound of arguing, but the words were muffled. It didn’t matter. It was a distant thought, too far away for him to grasp. The only thing Keith could see was Rolo’s face, slack and staring. The man hadn’t even had a chance to react, gone before he’d realized he was dying. A civilian, an  _innocent_. Keith could have gotten him out, should have.

“He’s hurt but….stop yelling, sh…..our fault….know where.” Scraps of words floated back and Keith groaned. 

“Galra?” Keith should have asked about Rolo first, he knew that as soon as the question left his lips, but there wasn’t anything they could do to help him now. The black and whites must have raided the place after all that gunfire and if Keith had any hope of maintaining his cover and seeing his job through, he’d have to lay low. Work came first.

It was easier to tuck away Rolo’s death than Keith would have wanted.

“The Galra were here?” Zethrid cut in. Keith closed his eyes with a sigh. There was another short burst of discussion, low and intent but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. His eyes were swollen and sticky, and every movement made his head throb. 

The darkness crept in. Keith had no way of stopping it. He didn’t know how long he drifted. When he came to, he wasn’t alone, but his girls were gone.

Keith looked up, startled but sluggish, and for a moment, he was certain that he was dreaming. Shiro looked up at him from the far end of the room, his expression unreadable.

Keith croaked out his name.

Shiro moved like a blur, a big man with footsteps as quiet as a cat’s. All Keith could do was stare.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Shiro hissed. “You weren’t authorized for this.”

“W-where? How did you find me?” Keith mumbled, trying to focus on the familiar walls of his apartment. He’d been somewhere else first. But now he was tucked into his own bed with no sign of anyone but a very angry Shiro.

“You think I couldn’t find you anywhere you go? Keeping track of you is my  _job_ , dammit! At least one of us needs to remember that.”

“You’re overreacting.” Keith sat up carefully, running gentle fingers along his head. Blood had matted in his hair and a there were painful swollen lumps, but everything was in one piece and Keith slowly pieced his thoughts together again. Even tired and in pain, he was defensive, glaring at Shiro as if it was his handler’s fault. 

“You went in without backup after I expressly ordered you not to, you endangered the mission, you almost got yourself killed…” Shiro’s voice was clipped. "Back off, Keith. This is an order.”

“Like hell it is! I found the courier, the Galra are involved somehow. If they’re not bringing in Quintessence, then they’ll know who is. We can shut down the entire operation. This is my fucking case!”

“All you’re doing is jeopardizing it.”

“The only reason you have a case at all is because of me!” Keith hissed, pulling himself to his feet. The ground swayed beneath him, but it made Shiro flinch instead, and Keith pressed his advantage, tension coiling in his bones, desperate to strike out because this couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t allow this to happen.

“You can’t do your job if you’re too busy getting yourself killed.”

“Then I’ll handle this myself!”

“I should let you.” Shiro snapped. “Leave you to hang on your fucking stupidity.”

And Keith laughed. It was a cruel sound. “You won’t do that. You love me.”

The words drew blood, Keith could see the wound in Shiro’s eyes. The Broker could see the fragile weakness in people, crack them open along the seams until all of their secrets spilled out. It was easy, and the power was thrilling.

“I could have lost you.” There, right there. That was the fear, and Keith knew it was over. Shiro wrapped his hands around Keith’s arms, rooting him in place. “Someone  _died_  tonight and it could have been you. I don’t care about the promotion, this job is changing you and it’s too dangerous. Please.” His voice broke as Keith drew him down into a kiss. It worked every time.

“You worry too much.”

“You’re too reckless. I should-.”

“And I should tell the Chief that you’re so high on pain pills that you’re pulling your best operative right when he’s finally about to bring down the largest drug ring in the city.” Keith miscalculated, pushing too far as Shiro snarled and shoved him away. 

“Fuck you.”

Keith’s smile was poison. “Probably could let him know about that too.”

“Why are you doing this?” Shiro’s hands clenched into fists, a warning. “This isn’t you.”

“It’s what works and you know it. If you don’t like it, you don’t need to stay. I can do this alone.”

Keith stared Shiro down, daring him to look away, always certain he would come out on top.

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Without another word, Shiro turned to go. When Keith told himself that it had been victory, he could almost believe it.

 

* * *

 

Shiro wasn’t supposed to do this. This was reckless, and all the more dangerous because of it. There were rules that repaid disobedience with blood, boundaries that could cut like knives, but Shiro didn’t care.

The doorman let him into the penthouse suit. Not even the elevator ride to the top could calm him down. They were waiting for him in the parlor. Neither pretended they weren’t.

A platinum blonde with a cutting glare, and a sharp-eyed crow with a cruel smile. Honerva Haggar, the leader of the Galra since her husband’s disappearance months before, and her first lieutenant, Lotor. The heir apparent. Two women flanked Lotor’s back and watched Shiro’s rage warily.

“Sergeant, you’re early.”

They were two of the most powerful figures the city never knew about, but all Shiro saw was red.

“This was not the plan we agreed on,” Shiro hissed, his fist coming down on a marble table that cost more than most families made in a month.

“I’m sure we don’t know what you mean. We would never disappoint Altea’s finest.” Haggar said, her eyes flashing like a cat’s. Shiro pulled away, ignoring the threat in his rage, and knew he would pay for the small show of defiance later. The Galra always made everyone pay.

“I  _did_  everything you asked.” He turned his eyes on Lotor who regarded Shiro impassively. “Addler’s out of the picture. I did your fucking dirty work for you and you almost kill my asset!”

“You’re overreacting.” Lotor drawled. “We heard about the incident, but that’s just an occupational hazard.”

“It was the Galra! They tore the place up and got to the courier before he was done and you’re telling me that you had nothing to do with it?” Shiro snarled.

Lotor had gone still, lazy smile still on his face, but he bristled with obvious annoyance “You must have been mistaken. No Galra were involved. I wouldn’t tolerate such disobedience.”

“Of course, they would  _never_ interfere in your fun.” Haggar’s smile matched Lotor’s, fangs hidden behind insincerity. “Must have been a mistake, easy to make.”

“This changes our agreement-”

“What we agreed to, Mr. Shirogane was that this contract would remain for as long as you and yours are useful.” Haggar cut in smoothly, meeting his fury with cold indifference. “I trust nothing has changed?”

Shiro dragged in an unsteady breath, swaying on the spot. His service pistol hung heavy on his shoulder, burning a brand through his holster. He looked away first and lowered his head.

“Vrepit sa.”

With a sway of expensive silk, Haggar rose. She pressed a gentle kiss to Shiro’s brow, the bite of her perfume making his head spin. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, gritting his teeth so hard, his jaw ached. He couldn’t see her face, but he didn’t doubt her smile.

Shiro only moved once the door closed somewhere to his right. Haggar was gone.

Lotor had moved to the round table at the corner. He poured out two glasses of something amber and sharp. With a theatrical wave of his hand, he bid Shiro closer, and anyone else would have thought him in good spirits. Shiro knew better. He took a drink anyway.

“These are trying times, Shiro. A time of change. Don’t forget who holds your strings.”

“How could I?” Shiro snarled. Lotor laughed like he’d made a joke.

“I know how tempting it must be to run off and do something unreasonably heroic. But don’t.”

With a quick flick of his wrist, Lotor tossed out a small white bottle. Shiro wished it wasn’t so easy to catch. It rattled as he pocked it. He knocked back the rest of his scotch, and left while it still burned down his throat. 

Lotor watched him go before turning back to the woman who stood as his shadow, silent and watching. She snapped to attention as his gaze met hers. “Something is going on that I don’t like, Acxa. My mother is planning something, I can feel it. Set up a meeting with the Broker, if you need information in this city, you might as well go to the best.”

Acxa hesitated, her eyes flickering out to the door where Shiro had left with something that might have been pity. “Sir, are you sure? If we push him too far, he won’t be any use to you.”

“He won’t turn, we both know he can’t. Trust me.” He brushed his knuckles gently down the curve of her jaw. “It’s time to change the game.”


	3. Chapter 3

A mug slammed into his table, spilling coffee all over chipped wood, and Keith jolted. Ezor peered down at him, smiling with too many teeth.

“Just checking you’re still here, boss.”

“I was reading.” Keith bit out, but he took the drink anyway.

“Please. You’ve been staring at the same spot for three minutes.” Keith grunted low in his throat, trying to blink the spots out of his eyes, but he didn’t deny it. That goddamned courier was supposed to bust his case wide open. He wasn’t sure if he was being stubborn or stupid by trying to dig through a dead end. Probably both. At his girls’ little apartment, he thought he could get away with some measure of bullheadedness. Ezor continued, unfazed, “I’ve got better use of our time, hot off the streets.”

“I’m not helping you blackmail some ref again. If you want to race pink slips, don’t expect me to be there when you lose.”

Ezor snorted, unimpressed. “I don’t lose. But we’ve got the best sort of dead man on our hands, the sort that’s still kicking.” She waited a beat, purely to watch Keith scowl. “Sammy was spotted last night.”

Zethrid looked up from across the room, a bright gleam in her eyes. “That my cue?”

“Where?” Keith spat, tossing the device across the table, his mind racing. His eyes darted towards his phone, just once, but it remained just as quiet as it had been all night.

“Empire. That club on Anchor Ave., the one that-”

“I know the one.”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, I just pass along what I hear.” She said with a huff as she flopped on the couch next to Zethrid and kicked up her feet across the other woman’s lap.

“And where exactly did you hear it?”

“From Ginger, she’s a bouncer over at the club. She’s an ex who sometimes gives me a heads up on interesting things for the right price.” Ezor said. When Zethrid gave a low rumble, she leaned up and planted a kiss on her partner’s face. “Money, sweetheart. I’m talking about money.”

Keith swirled his coffee thoughtfully, expression blank. If Sammy was back on the streets so soon, then the Broker’s reputation was at stake and that couldn’t stand. He was only as good as his information and the fear his moniker carried. Without that, he’d lose his access to the city’s underbelly and any hope of bringing down the Galra. And building up his case enough to stop the flow of illegal Quintessence into the city, he could almost hear Shiro’s scolding voice.

It was tempting. That was the problem.

“I think it might be time to have a little fun. Why don’t the two of you take a look at the club, see if you can get a little backstage tour while it’s closed for the day. Your ex might be willing to let you take a peek.” He said, catching Zethrid’s dark scowl. “For money, of course. I’ll front you the cash.”

“And what are you going to be doing, if it’s even worth asking.” Zethrid growled.

“Just make a few calls to some good friends.”

The Broker was nothing, if not prepared.

But more than anything, Keith needed to find out how much time he had left. It was why he was at his girls’, instead of his own apartment, even if it was only an inconvenience. If Shiro had wanted to, Keith could’ve been forcibly recalled in under an hour, with enough fanfare to burn his cover to the ground and then some. Nothing had happened yet. Keith wasn’t sure he trusted it, but Sammy changed things.

In the evening, when Zethrid called and told him they had an in, Keith stopped thinking about Shiro.

Decked out in rich velvet and gold, Empire was built on the remnants of a theater that had gone out of business long ago. There was a line that went around the block by the time Keith arrived, but Ezor was waiting for him by the side entrance. She was smoking, mouth pinched into a hard line, but when she spotted him, a smile broke out across her features. Her hard sell smile. Keith didn’t know what he’d done to warrant it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Wondering if I should’ve brought a bigger gun, boss. You’re not gonna make trouble for me are you? I got a good thing going on.”

That smile hadn’t gone anywhere. Keith wavered.

“I thought you said it was just money.”

Ezor laughed, and after she knocked, a tall woman with dark eyes opened the door. Ezor kept a hand around his waist all the way into the club.

“Where are the offices?” He asked, just as Ezor’d started to say something. Her jaw clamped shut.

“Why?” Ezor asked, eyes narrowed. “Don’t you want to talk to the bouncer?”

“No.”

He didn’t wait to hear her argue before he pushed himself passed and into the club. It was early, but the place was packed. Empire was hot, making the most of its notoriety and exclusivity to become one of the most popular spots in the whole city. The entire operation was squeaky clean, even with Keith’s extensive network digging into it. That alone was enough to raise suspicion, no night club kept such a pristine record.

Keith could hear the thumping sound of the bass and the cheers from the dance floor and felt the pulse in his throat. He turned away, slipping back into the quiet service hallways, away from the crowds and flashing lights. If there was anything worth finding, it would be here, tucked away where they thought no one could find it.

Or somewhere on the hours of security footage recorded for “safety.”

The girls did their job without direction, wandering down the halls back towards the dance floor and ready to distract should anyone get to close. Ezor always had that bubbly charm about her that few could resist and for the ones that could, well, no one resisted after Zethrid was done with them.

There was a door at the end of the hall. His hand closed around a handle and gave it an experimental shake. An easy lock, he wouldn’t even need tools for this. With one quick snap, the lock broke and Keith creaked the door open… and looked up into the scowling pecs of a bouncer in a too-tight black shirt. He tipped a little further back. Yup, the rest of him was scowling too.

“The door was unlocked.” Keith said, meeting his beady little eyes without pause.

One of those big hands raised, and he sighed, all the way down to his toes, ready for all of it to hurt, but he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Let him in.”

The bouncer stilled. Keith didn’t dare breathe. The walking brick house took a step back, barely leaving any room for Keith to slip through. Keith elbowed his way for more.

Behind him was a woman, all sharp angles and lean strength, purple haired and dark eyed. She met his stare evenly, but it was her unflinching composure that gave him pause. She reminded him vaguely of Ezor. He wasn’t going to test how far that comparison went.

“Follow me.”

She didn’t wait to see if he would.

The hallway widened into a large den in red and black and silver, velvet and leather tastefully strewn to accentuate just how much money their owner had. In the middle of it all, on a large couch was a man Keith had only ever seen in pictures. Lotor.

Behind him was a peculiar figure, so still Keith first thought she was a mannequin. A dark mask curled around her eyes. Her hair was cropped almost violently short. Keith had only seen her in police surveillance photos before. She seemed almost out of place among the twisting bodies that sprawled across the lush furniture and claimed every dark corner. Lotor taste in high-end beauty seemed to echo across the men and women that adorned the room like some kind of hedonist decoration. It caught Keith off guard, but the Broker steeled his expression and ignored the soft gasping moans that filled the silence.

He swallowed thickly, adrenaline kicking through his nerves and twisting with anticipation. Lotor surveyed him with cool disinterest that dared Keith to lash out or to turn tail and run, the sex on display like a challenge to throw him off balance. It was a challenge Keith was all too ready to meet.

“So.” Lotor drawled. “You’re the one who sent his people crawling all over my club.” 

Keith couldn’t help it. He laughed.

“You know exactly who I am, Lotor.”

Lotor raised an eyebrow. 

With a wave of his hand, Keith dropped into the chair across from him, ignoring the way one of the “decorations” trailed her fingers across his shoulders. The direct approach was always better, no sense in wasting time. “You’re the one who put out the information to get me here, it couldn’t have come from anywhere else. There’s no way Sammy is back on the streets. I made sure of it.” He smiled like a shark. “Someone wanted me to come here, which means you want to talk. So, Lotor, what does the heir of the Galra crime family have to say? Though I thought you’d be head by now. Zarkon’s death can only mean good things for you.”

Lotor leaned back with his arms crossed to study the other man thoughtfully as a pretty little thing simpered for his attention on his lap. “You have some nerve. My father isn’t-”

Keith held up a hand. “Call it what you want, but six months without a public appearance is death in every way that matters.”

Lotor smiled. With a languid motion, he yanked his little toy up by the hair and fed him a small violet pill before shoving him aside. One of the women behind him dragged him away as Keith’s eyes narrowed.  “Your reputation is more than just hearsay.”

Keith didn’t say anything. He refused to watch the display, just waited with a scowl as Lotor filled two glasses with something bubbly and set one on the table in front of him. Victory felt hollow, but something sharper beat beneath his ribs.

“Forgive me for the little test. You never know who to trust when you’re working with new talent.”

“So, you want to pay me for some information?” 

“I want you to  _find_  some information.” Lotor took a sip of his drink. “Something that’s a little sensitive, but your reputation also speaks to your discretion.”

“Something that eludes the Galra’s reach.” Keith accused. He didn’t like Lotor, would have happily met him on the other side of a jail cell, but he cut his teeth with anticipation, hungry for the opportunity Lotor obliviously dangled in front of him.

“Something that requires a specialized hand.”

As if on cue, the woman who’d met Keith at the door stepped forward. Keith wasn’t sure what she did, precisely, but he’d done his homework on Lotor’s associates and watched her warily. On her screen were three grainy picture, their subjects blurred but recognizable. Keith went very still as she flicked to the last one.

It was Anthony Franks, alias Throk. The shooter from Lion Gate.

Keith exhaled slowly. “The Galra need help cleaning house?”

“And they told me the Broker didn’t ask any questions.” Lotor said, mouth quirked in what might have been a charming smile if Keith didn’t know its owner drew blood. Or maybe because of it.

Keith scoffed.

“I need to know what you want, how else do I get paid?” Keith said, leaning back in his chair like none of this mattered. 

It must have worked. Lotor continued, gesturing towards the photos. “I want to know where they are, who they're working for, and what their endgame is. By whatever means necessary.”

“Knowledge or death, right. I’ll need a copy of these photos and my fee. The best doesn’t come cheap.”

Lotor snapped his fingers as the woman nodded and pulled out printed copies sealed in a thick manila envelope as if they’d anticipated his request. Looked like Lotor had done his homework too. “Your first payment is included, I am  _only_ interested in the best.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere. Are we done here?”

Keith moved to pluck the envelope from the woman’s fingers. He never quite made it. Lotor watched him with a self-satisfied smile that Keith was ready to punch off.

“Almost.”

Keith snarled, his eyes hard.

“We’re done here.”

For the first time, something other than wry amusement crossed Lotor’s features. It was almost a good look on him.

“Just like that?” Lotor sneered. “You were jumping at the chance to impress me a second ago.” 

“You called me.” Keith’s voice dropped to a hush. It didn’t matter. He knew they were listening. “I am here, indulging you because of the legacy your daddy built, but I’m not playing your games. Now is Ms.  _Acxa_ going to show me the door, or will I have to make a new one?”

No one moved. In the silence, Keith’s heartbeat was too loud. “You should spend less time on keeping your hands clean, and more time worrying about those who can’t.”

Lotor leaned forward and refilled their glasses.

“Call me old-fashioned, but I like knowing who I do business with.” He met Keith’s eyes. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Stay until the end of the show, and the job is yours. If not…”

He gestured towards the exit with a careless gesture. Keith should go, he had the mission and the target, he didn’t need anything else. Every moment in Lotor’s presence was a risk, his enemy was too smart for paltry tricks and lies. The Galra were dangerous, Keith knew he should have taken everything and run back to Shiro before this got too deep or spiraled out of control.

He should run.

Acxa placed a small box on the table between them with a bow as one dark haired woman trailed perfectly manicured nails along the back of Keith’s chair.

“How do I win?” Keith frowned. This was all some kind of  _game,_ after all.

Lotor laughed at him. “This isn’t all for you, Broker. But you’re a player nonetheless. Consider it a test of loyalty.”

“I’m loyal to your money, nothing else.” The Broker leaned back with an impatient scowl. Lotor didn’t seem concerned as he pulled a young man down into his lap, stroking down his bronze skin as the man nuzzled for attention.

“Then consider it a test of wit.”

He pushed the glasses forward, unashamed of the display of effervescence that bubbled to the surface of the drink or the little violet pill at the bottom. Keith was just surprised to find it in both cups.

He wasn’t sure about a game, but this felt like the worst sort of dare. He couldn’t imagine what Lotor got out of killing him. The Broker was a threat in his circles, but the Galra didn’t crossover to play with the smaller leagues often. This wasn’t about Lotor’s safety. It was about Keith’s obedience.

Keith knew this was a mistake. He drank it down anyway.

The taste barely registered against the bite of alcohol, a smoky warmth that simmered all the way down. He quirked a brow, not demanding an explanation, but prompting. Lotor was the sort of man who enjoyed himself talk.

“Quintessence.” Lotor said, simpering, and Keith felt his expression falter, if only for a moment. “You need to see the magnitude of what this risk.”

“Thought you weren’t supposed to sample your product.”

“You should know by now, I wouldn’t do anything of the sort, Broker.”

That self-satisfied smirk had returned, and Keith got to his feet too quickly. Mutual destruction was Lotor’s idea of loyalty, and Keith wasn’t sure he could, didn’t know how he could weather this. He turned to move, but the world swayed around him. Suddenly there was a hand on his waist, drawing him back. Keith hissed, lashing out, but Lotor caught his wrist before it could connect. Keith shivered.

“You’re not the only one with ears on the ground, Broker. You’ve been begging for my attention for quite a while now. Dancing on the edges of my deals, never crossing me, but waiting, leaving absolute devastation in your wake. I have to admit, it was tempting to take you up on your offer.” He said, breath hot against Keith’s skin. The ground lurched beneath his feet and Keith dug his hands into Lotor’s arm to keep his balance. 

“I told you I wasn’t going to play your games!” He snarled, though rage gaze way to fuzzy euphoria that started in the back of his skull.

“Then why come here? You’re just as fascinated by me as I’ve been by you.” Lotor purred, pulled Keith in tight against his body. “Stories say you’re a monster, I wasn’t expecting anyone so pretty to walk through my door. I’m curious. Might as well satisfy that curiosity…unless you’d rather run?”

His muddled thoughts snagged on the question. He’d come so far to be here, he’d worked for years to break through into the Galra’s organization even with Shiro refusing to let him tackle them head on. Here he was, not just working for them, but pulled directly into their inner circle. He could take them down from the inside, cut off the head of the snake and watch the entire organization die around him. He didn’t need Shiro’s disapproval whispering in his thoughts, this was what he was made for, this was why the Broker existed. He would do anything it took to bring the Galra down, anything.

This was his chance.

Keith would have escaped, but the Broker never ran.

A smile as cruel as any that graced Lotor’s face twisted across the Broker’s lips as he let the Quintessence crash through his system and rode the pleasure that it brought in its wake. He yanked Lotor up by the collar of his thousand-dollar shirt and reveled in the momentary shock in those deep violet eyes as they kissed, biting down hard enough to draw blood. Lotor jerked back, trying to regain his composure.

“I’m not a toy, Lotor. I’m the one pulling the strings.”

He fisted his hand in long blond hair, tugging hard enough to leave Lotor breathless as it spilled across Keith’s hand. His palm tingled, his nerves crackling with sensation. It was like a fever was simmering beneath his skin, and it was only getting worse. Then the hunger would come, and Keith almost had enough sense to be scared. Quintessence addled the mind and senses, turned everything up to eleven on a good day, and beyond when it got bad. It was the sharpest high, but it was the addiction that came afterwards that brought people back for more, the cloying, desperate need that twisted you from the inside out.

Lotor dragged his nails down Keith’s arm, mock-struggling to push him away, his mouth twisted into a vicious smile. It was the only time Keith thought he could like him.

He shoved Lotor into the couch, pinning him hard against smooth leather. He could feel him snarling beneath him, writhing with unfamiliar heat. A sharp burst of pain caught Keith in the side of the head, lights sparking then burning behind his eyes, and he was on his back, on the ground, Lotor between his legs and moving with such silky heat that Keith couldn’t think straight.

Long fingered hands rubbed him though his pants and his body responded, hardening under Lotor’s touch. Keith’s back bowed, knees widening for better access as denim scratched across his hips and the warmth of Lotor’s hands wrapped around him. A low groan rumbled from his chest, echoed in Lotor’s laughter as he slipped a condom over Keith’s cock.

“Mmm, I like playing rough. And you look good on your back.”

The groan turned into a growl as Keith wrapped his legs around Lotor’s middle and rolled them over, pinning the Galra heir quickly enough to surprise him. He leaned down for another hard, bloody kiss before pushing back and wobbling to his feet. Confusion clouded over Lotor’s face before Keith reached down to haul him up as well, slamming the blond against the wall. Lotor hissed.

“You look better when you’re needy.” Keith hissed, shoving Lotor’s face into the rywall as he reached around do undo the other man’s pants. “You’re the one who wants what I’ve got.  _Impress me._ ”

He could feel the exact moment Lotor surrendered in his gasp, the way his body arched against him, the half-lidded eyes that couldn’t hide the greed that burned beneath them. It was angry and powerful, a recognition of one monster to another. A promise they could tear each other apart with intimate cruelty. It was headier than any Quintessence.

He didn’t think about Shiro.

There were other hands on him then, weight at his back as the pretty toys Lotor had collected moved closer to join in the fun, but Keith’s attention was on the prize in front of him.

Hot wet pressure against Keith’s skin, tongue and teeth across his shoulder. They left pleasure singing through his veins and rattling in his bone, so sharp it hurt and pleasure and pain balanced on the edge of a knife. He let them undress him. Let them touch him. Lotor was keening for him, his pants pooled around his ankles, bespoke suit wrinkled where it fell, but with Keith’s hand tight around his throat, he wasn’t moving anywhere Keith’d want him. Keith was rough and fast, fingers working inside Lotor with perfunctory disinterest.

Someone cupped Keith by the chin, manicured nails prickling where she dug in. When she pulled him back to kiss, her lipstick smeared across his mouth. She tasted like heat.

“I can see why he likes you.” Lotor spat. When Keith pushed in, his knees buckled.

Keith didn’t bother with gentle. He took what he wanted and let Lotor find his own pleasure in the hard, demanding rhythm he set. He wrapped his hands in the long, silky blond hair and yanked hard, swallowing down Lotor’s curses with a vicious kiss. The world spun, dangerous and beautiful, and Keith lost himself in it. The only thing that mattered was the feel of skin against skin, and the way Lotor’s body clenched around him.

Mouths dragged down his back, cool against his burning skin. Fingers worked their way inside of him, stroking deep as his legs shook with the effort of keeping himself standing. He kissed the curve of Lotor’s neck, feeling the racing pulse beneath his lips and swallowing around its beat as he won another low groan from the once perfectly composed heir. It was thrilling to see him laid low. Keith fucked him until his silvered tongue forgot its cutting words.

He still wasn’t expecting when strong arms wrapped around his middle, thick cock pressing between his legs and thrusting against his taint. There was barely a moment to protest before he was caught between Lotor and one of his toys.

Keith hissed, bracing himself as he was stretched around someone’s cock. His vision blurred in the dim. He couldn’t make out his face, only the bare glint of white teeth beneath his smile, but his hands were heavy on Keith’s hips and he liked to bite when he fucked.

Keith pulled out with a delirious groan, the tight heat of Lotor’s body still whispering against his skin. Lotor snapped at him, turning to face him but stumbling in place. Keith grabbed him by the front of his shirt, shoved him hard against the wall, once, twice, hard enough that Lotor ached. He held him there, hand around his neck, one long leg stretched around his waist as a stranger’s hands moved over Keith’s skin.  

He liked the way Lotor writhed beneath him, twisting and spitting venom as he drew Keith deeper. He could feel him struggling for air as Keith’s his grip tightening around the delicate hollow of Lotor’s throat. The blood drained from his features, his gaze wild with mad want, and Keith drank him in.

“Don't stop.” Lotor groaned, eyes falling shut, pretty pink mouth panting for air, and then he was convulsing all around him. Keith fucked him through his orgasm, wrung it out of him until Lotor could barely stand. Then he kept going, as Lotor bucked and sobbed, oversensitive and aching. There was panting in Keith’s ear. Someone called him needy. Someone called him hot.

He saw Lotor, only Lotor, because he couldn’t see Shiro. Keith still made him scream. He came buried deep inside him, spilling into plastic and laughing into his throat.

There were hands on him, pulling him away, pulling him further into the room, and someone pressed the smooth rim of a glass against his lips, Keith didn’t fight back.

 

* * *

 

When Keith got home, he was flying. Blood crusted under his nails and his body sang with the electric hum of lingering power. He had brought the Galra to its knees and it had been so good.  _(Hah)._  He stumbled into his apartment and locked the door behind him, leaning heavily against the cool wood as he laughed.

Unbelievable. He could get so used to this feeling.

The apartment was dark and silent, the only light from the muted television flickering across the living room and casting moving shadows along the wall. Another one of Freer’s grandiose campaign speeches, no doubt. There wasn’t any escaping the shipping magnet’s grasp for power, a silent reminder that the world went on without him. Keith dropped his jacket in a heap and tried to get his feet to work, one in front of the other as he headed towards the bathroom. The shadows moved again and Keith paused. The blade found its way to his hand before he’d realized he’d moved, the edge of his knife held against the darkness.

“One of these days, I’m not going to be able to stop myself if you keep doing this.” He said, turning the warning into another chuckle.

“Where were you? I couldn’t reach you on your earpiece.” The disapproval was heavy in Shiro’s tone, but Keith ignored it. Shiro was always going on about rules and procedures, he’d done more in one day than they’d ever managed in years of working with Shiro’s restrictions.

“You talk too much.” Keith pulled Shiro down into a kiss. It didn’t last.

 The world beneath his feet tilted as his back hit the wall. There were hands fisted in his shirt, and Keith snarled with too much teeth. Then Shiro was holding him, strong fingers curled around his jaw, forcing his head up. Keith struggled, the need to tear Shiro apart twisting in his chest. He just needed a moment. Just needed to catch his breath.

“What happened to you?”

Shiro was whisper soft, like he didn’t want Keith to hear, like he was scared. Keith hated him for it, for still managing careful when Keith was already reeling. He lashed out, knife in his fist, and Shiro caught him too easily. Keith thought he could hate him forever. Shiro’s grip tightened on his wrist, and Keith’s fingertips went numb. The knife clattered to the ground.

“Let me go.” Keith snapped. The words caught in his throat halfway through, little more than a drunken slur. Shiro wasn’t listening. His hands were on Keith, across flushed and feverish flesh, over clothes that felt too loose and skin that felt too tight, and Keith gasped, his knees buckling. He never hit the ground.

“How? They got to you. Who would try, you weren’t supposed to be out there.”

Keith let out a ragged, ugly noise. He couldn’t see straight. The lights were too bright, too sharp, and god, Shiro’s voice- “I liked it.”

Shiro’s expression shuttered, but Keith couldn’t let go now that he’d drawn blood. The Broker knew weakness when he saw it and always wielded it like a weapon. “Come on, Shiro.” His voice was almost a purr, as smug and satisfied as Lotor’s had been when that arrogant prince thought he held all the cards. “I don’t know why you were so worried, it was easy. The Galra need me and I just gave them a little taste.”

“Fuck you.” Shiro snarled, but Keith dug his hands into Shiro’s shirt and held on. 

“Are you angrier that I did what you never could and didn’t even need your help or that I fucked someone else?” Keith’s smile was cold as the anger bloomed in uneven splotches across Shiro’s cheeks. “You want me to say it didn’t matter, that it was just for the job? Would that make you feel better?”

“You’re a reckless idiot, and you’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed. This isn’t the job, Keith. You’re in way too deep and I’m pulling the plug on this right now.” He said though it was clear there was more than fear for Keith’s safety in Shiro’s eyes. Betrayal, doubt, jealousy, disappointment. It was the last that hurt so much.

“We both know you won’t. I’m taking down the biggest criminal organization in the whole city once and for all. I’ve got Lotor wrapped around my finger, I know exactly what he wants and that means I control him. It’s just a matter of time before he falls.” He dragged his fingertips down the side of Shiro’s jaw. “Besides, you’ll forgive me. You’re in love with me.”

“So you like to remind me.” Shiro bit back. “You’ve decided to be like him from now on?”

“I’m the Broker, I’m  _better_  than him.”

“You’re not better than anyone like this. You can barely stand.”

“I’m better than you.” Keith snapped. “At least I’m still in one piece.”

Shiro laughed, and Keith recoiled, bitter acid burning in the back of his throat. When Shiro pulled away, Keith wasn’t surprised, but he didn’t reach for him either. He turned away, refused to spend another second looking at the alarm Shiro wore so well. He heard his footsteps move away. Good riddance.

Keith reached for the bathroom door, only to slump against the door frame, his head spinning. In the distance, there was a heavy thud.

_Good. Riddance._

The lights flickered on, fluorescence burning through his eyes, and Keith flinched from head to toe, letting out a strangled noise. He was falling before he realized it. His knees hit the tile, and pain ricocheted through his bones, travelling all the way to his tightening ribs. Keith caught himself just in time.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, braced against the pain that radiated through his chest on hands and knees. He could feel the ground shifting beneath him, no matter how tightly he closed his eyes. Keith fell back on his hunches, his arms wrapped around his head as he sobbed.

He didn’t remember pulling himself into a hot shower or washing the evening from his skin. He didn’t remember dragging himself from the bathroom or the patient hands that held him steady and toweled him dry, or the way he was lifted off his feet and carried to bed. Exhaustion had finally crowded into the edges of the lingering haze between his ears and Keith didn’t want to fight anymore. The next thing he knew, he was warm and wrapped in the soft clean sheets of his bed, weightless and numb as sleep threatened.

“Shiro.” He murmured sleepily without opening his eyes, talking more to a dream than the shadow that paused in the doorway of his bedroom. Shiro stopped anyways, cursing the fact that Keith held his heart in such careless hands. This wasn’t like Keith. Or maybe he was lying to the both of him. Shiro was just so tired of hurting. 

He leaned against the door frame and watched Keith sleep before pulling a pill bottle from his pocket and downing too many. It would stop the pain in his arm, and hopefully block out everything else too. This was his fault, he’d let it get so far when he saw how Keith had slipped. Nothing ever stopped Keith, no challenge or obstacle. That kind of determination had been such a lure, and Shiro had found himself hooked before he’d even realized. Pride had made him think he could teach Keith somehow, make him better than Shiro could have ever been himself. Now he was just another puppet.

He turned to leave, but Keith’s voice called out behind him, slurred and quiet. Hopeful. Vulnerable. He sounded the way he used to, before he’d locked his humanity behind the Broker’s mask. “Don’t go?”

Shiro should have run a long time ago. Keith was right, he never could.

He slipped back into the room and closed the door behind him. It was easy to slide beneath the covers and wrap himself around Keith’s body. Keith curled against his warmth, fitting against Shiro like a lost piece. Keith was soft like this, his knife-sharp edges gone in his sleep. Shiro could hold him without cutting himself, though the ache in his chest never seemed to ease. It was almost real, almost love. He dropped a kiss to Keith’s shoulder and let the numbness swallow him whole.

In the dark, pretending was good enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Disoriented and unsteady, Keith didn’t wake until it was past noon. It felt like his mouth was covered in felt, and a bone-deep ache clung to him no matter how he moved.

Someone was in his house.

There was a crackling in the distance, and the faint smell of something deep fried and terrible in the air. Keith didn’t move immediately. It felt like his heart had caught in his chest, each pounding beat strong enough to leave his ribs quaking. He buried deeper into his sheets, tucking his face into pillows that didn’t just smell like him.

“I know you’re awake.”

“M'not.”

Shiro chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that Keith wanted to be close enough to feel. The edge of the bed dipped, and he scooted over, to give Shiro more space.

“Don’t move too quickly. I have coffee.”

Something scraped along his bedside table. Then there was a hand in his hair, a comfortable weight that Keith was almost surprised he recognized. He screwed his eyes shut tighter, but he turned to tuck his face into the side of Shiro’s hip.

Last night flooded back in a rush and Keith groaned. Bile crept up into the back of his throat, sick regret and shame, but when Shiro settled next to him, his friend didn’t mention any of it. “C’mon.” Shiro coaxed gently, stroking back his bangs. “At least try to eat something.”

Shiro was still here. That meant… well, it had to mean something, and Keith didn’t want to question it for now. Tension wound between them, but if Shiro was going to pretend, then Keith could too. He’d be grateful for it. He sat up slowly and nodded his thanks as Shiro passed him his drink, wrapping his hands around the chipped mug. They’d have to invest in something better someday, an absurd thought to have. The hot liquid did little to settle his stomach, but Shiro set a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon in front of him.

“Thank you.” He murmured, reaching for the toast and hoping it could counteract the acid roiling in his stomach. “You’re not working today?” Keith asked the question as delicately as he could, but there was so much in the screaming unsaid silence that spoke for itself.

“It’s Sunday. Even I have a day off every once in a while.” 

That was a lie, but Shiro’s voice was warm, and Keith wanted to wrap it around himself like a blanket and fall asleep again. He didn’t bother arguing, just leaned into Shiro’s space and reached for a slice of bacon.

“Thank you.” Again.  _For staying._ _For everything._

Shiro smiled. In the light of day, the lines on his face were deeper, and the purpled bruising under his eyes of an uneasy night more pronounced. He still had the prettiest smile Keith had ever seen. “Mhmm. But you have to do the dishes.”

Keith groaned because he was supposed to.

There was more coffee, and there were dishes, and there were afternoon reruns of sitcoms that ended years ago. Keith found something on the mayoral race, and just as Jacob Freer started to kiss babies, Shiro found something with aggressively cheesy pop music in the background.

“Don’t bother, he’s a hack and liar like the rest of them.”

“Not according to the polls," Keith said, just to be contrary, but he didn’t care enough to go any further.   

They danced around each other to music Keith couldn’t hear, with moves he only half knew, but he tried to keep up anyway. When everything just felt too loud in Keith’s head, Shiro came back with aspirin and water. When Shiro flinched in the middle of reaching for the remote, Keith did the same.

“Does it still hurt?” Keith asked. It didn’t matter that he already knew.

Shiro shrugged, taking the pill and adding his own from a little white case that Keith wished didn’t look so familiar.

Keith reached for the bottle, not sure he wanted to reach it. “Shiro-”  

“Don’t.” He stared ahead, far too focused on the television for whatever game show was playing. “You won’t mean it, so don’t bother.”

Maybe if Keith was a better person, he’d have been able to let go.

“You could stop?” Keith said, unsure of his own voice and hating the way Shiro tensed beside him. “Someday. I could help. We could…”

“Get a house? A dog? Go outside of the apartment together and not have to worry about anyone seeing us?” There wasn’t any anger in Shiro’s voice, just a weight that left Keith reeling with guilt.

“Maybe?” He didn’t have an answer to any of those questions, but Shiro just sighed and rolled Keith over on the couch. He wound his fingers through Shiro’s white bangs as the other man nuzzled against his stomach as a distraction. “I’d like that.”

“Would I be enough?” Shiro whispered so quietly Keith almost couldn’t hear the words.

Keith closed his eyes. “You’ve always been enough. I was just-, it was…”  _It was just the Broker, it wasn’t me. It was work. It didn’t count._  But Shiro was grieving and the excuses died on his tongue. “We could someday. This isn’t going to last forever and someday, we could, I don’t know.”  _Be real._

“I’m looking forward to someday.” Shiro rucked Keith’s shirt high enough that he could press kisses against his bare skin, breath leaving a trail of goosebumps. Shiro didn’t fight. The night before had taken the anger from him and left him tired, but always kind. That never changed. No matter how Keith pushed or how deep he twisted the knife, no matter how he kept Shiro at arm’s length to protect his own fragile selfish heart, Shiro was always kind. Keith had never said he loved him, too afraid of admitting to the weakness when he knew how it could be used against him. But he wanted the same thing. Holding hands in the daylight seemed so nice.

 

* * *

 

He was going to be better.

Keith was a stubborn asshole and knew it. He could do this, if not for him, then for Shiro. The days after Lotor’s offer had been quiet and gentle. Shiro hadn’t mentioned it again, but Keith could see the edges of his handler’s impressive control begin to fray. Shiro smile wasn’t as easy, his conversations died too early, he took too many pills to dull the pain he didn’t want to deal with, and it was all Keith’s fault.

Any other time, Shiro would scold him about breaking protocol and risking his life in his obsession to bring the down the Galra. It would be all business, and Keith wouldn’t deny he deserved it. No matter how deep he got, Shiro always managed to remember they were police. There were people to help, rules to follow and it was important to do things the “right” way. But after the first night, the lecture didn’t come and Keith knew he’d pushed too far.

Shiro had never kept his heart a secret. He whispered the words in Keith’s ear when they were sweat-streaked and spent, panting in twisted sheets. Or when he surprised Keith with dinner at 3 am after a too-long night as the Broker. Shiro had always wanted him and Keith wanted… he didn’t want to hurt Shiro. It was all he could allow himself to admit to. He might have broken something more important than his oath to the badge, and Keith spent those quiet days trying to piece it all together again.

Shiro couldn’t be with him every night, and the Broker couldn’t always disappear whenever he saw fit, but he made an effort. He kept Shiro updated, kept his head down, his eyes forward. He showed Shiro how good he could be, and when he took Shiro to bed, spread him over his threadbare sheets, he did it all over again.

They were almost done. One way or another, the Broker would reach the end of his rope, and there was an afterwards waiting for them.

It was a ridiculous idea, and unreasonably reckless. There was a long list of things they both should have been doing instead, but Keith was eager to prove that he was more than his persona. After all, the Broker didn’t go on dates.

Keith checked his reflection in the mirror and realized he didn’t care. He took the highway to across town, found a place to park, and a bus to jump onto. Then there was another one waiting for him, and in the end, he came to a quiet little hole in the wall that served over-sauced pizza and cheap Chinese beer. It wasn’t Keith’s favorite thing, but what waited in the corner booth was.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Shiro out of office wear. Soft, shapeless cotton made him look younger somehow, more vulnerable. His hair was tousled and windswept, mouth pursed in unnecessary intensity as he looked over the menu. Keith liked it like that. It always looked like Shiro was pouting, or like he was begging to be kissed. He couldn’t decide which was better and didn’t even try.

He slid into the seat across from him and resisted the urge to glance around. It wasn’t easy to just switch off like this, but the thrill of it sang through Keith’s bones and made it all worth the risk. With a grin, he reached across the table and plucked the menu from Shiro’s hands before wrapping his own around them. In public. For all the world to see. Okay, so maybe that world was all the way across town and they’d spent more than an hour making sure they weren’t going to be followed so they wouldn’t jeopardize their undercover mission, but they were still out like normal people.

Oh god, why did that make Keith’s stomach do flip flops? Slipping into the Broker’s skin and throwing himself head first at the city’s most dangerous gangs was less terrifying than this.

“You didn’t have any problems?” He asked in a low voice, waiting for that hesitant, encouraging smile that Shiro could shine straight down his soul.

“Nope. Though it might make it hard to eat pizza while you’ve got my hands.”

“Then you’d better get used to it, because now that I’ve started, I’m not planning on letting go.” Keith teased, though when Shiro squeezed his hands, a lump lodged in his throat. Something so simple, so stupidly ordinary, and they’d never been able to do it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted this or how terrifying it was to want more. Or to admit to his heart that he loved Shiro just as much.

“Promises, promises.” Shiro grinned, and his eyes crinkled in the corners. Keith didn’t know how he let him go, but he must’ve. Somehow, they managed to order pizza. It took a little longer than it should have.

If Keith was asked afterwards what they’d talked about, he wouldn’t have been able to say, but his laughter tasted like soda bubbles, and his face hurt from smiling. He’d gotten a beer into Shiro at some point, just to watch pink creep across his cheeks, and they split a slice of cake that tasted like it had spent a month in someone’s refrigerator.

It was the best night Keith’d had in a long time.

‘Let’s do this again some time’ danced on the tip of his tongue, but they were taking the back alleys out of the block for a reason. Keith didn’t say he would have to circle back to catch a ride home. He wondered if Shiro would’ve already left if he had.

“Hey.” Shiro said, and when Keith looked up, he was smiling, expression so painfully fond Keith couldn’t speak. “You’re thinking too hard.”

“I thought you said I didn’t think enough.”

“You’re a man of many facets.” Shiro said solemnly and had the nerve to laugh when Keith elbowed him in the side. Then Keith felt Shiro’s hand slip into the pocket of his jacket, easy as you please, like it belonged there. It took him a moment longer to realize Shiro’d left something behind.

“What’s this?” Keith asked.

“Same old, same old.” Shiro looked almost sheepish about it. Keith didn’t think he had reason to be.

Keith didn’t try to reach for it. Size and weight suggested a flash drive. Another assignment then, but that was okay. He couldn’t really expect them to take the night off, and the pizza had been worth it. But he must have done something, because Shiro cleared his throat.

“The Addler stuff’s in. Looks like you were right. They’re talking about giving me a task force.”

“Told you so.” Keith smiled. A task force was an annoying administrative thing that really meant more late hours and sleepless nights. It also meant another feather in Shiro’s cap, another promotion.

“I think maybe that means you can come home. You know. After.”

 _Home?_  Keith paused, testing out the word. It wasn’t one he used often, and it felt… he wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck and pulled him down, kissing in the shadowy alley until they were both breathless. Could he have a home? They’d joked about a real life when they were lazy and spent in bed on the few days they could pretend they were normal.

But what if they didn’t pretend? There could be an after.

Shiro hadn’t been wrong. The Broker was like a poison that got into his bones until he forgot what it was like to live without it. A drug with an addiction to adrenaline and power, same way that Shiro drowned himself in painkillers, hating himself every time he lost the battle of wills. All Keith had wanted to do was help people, and he’d lost that long the way. Maybe he could find a different way, they both could. There were lots of ways to be a hero.

Wanting was a dangerous thing. The Broker always used it as a leash to control someone right before he choked them with it. Shiro wore his want so openly and Keith dragged his fingers down the other man’s face.

“Maybe, after we wrap everything up with Addler, we could get out of here? Transfer to a different division where we don’t have to be undercover all the time?” Keith offered hesitantly. “We’ve given them enough years.”

“You mean it?” There was hope in Shiro’s voice and Keith felt like his brittle heart could break. “You’d stop working undercover?”

“You’re sure?”

“If you are. I think maybe we’ve spent a little too long living someone else’s lives.” Keith didn’t let go, feeling their heartbeats trapped between their bodies. It was frightening to tell to speak the truth after living in lies for so long, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m ready, Shiro.”

When Shiro kissed him, Keith really thought he was.

 

* * *

 

The assignment was as close to textbook as the Broker ever dealt with. Someone named Alex Hasni was making a reputation for himself as a Quintessence dealer. New names were always backed by old names, and Shiro wanted enough on him so they could bring him in.

Simple enough.

“He looks like a dog someone hit with a car.” Ezor said, and she almost managed to sound sympathetic. She peered over Keith’s shoulder, trying to get a better look at their target, but Keith just turned off his phone.

“Don’t worry. We’re not gonna have to deal with him yet.”

“And if he’s a problem, we’ll just hit him with another car.” Zethrid piped up from across the room. Keith scowled, but Ezor laughed enough for them all. Keith swatted at both of them.

“We just have to find out where his base of operation is.”

“Standard operating procedure, boss?” She teased as Keith frowned and poured over the files of their target, as thin as they were. The Broker always did his homework, that was why he was the best. And still alive. Cutting corners didn’t do anyone any good, and he had a reputation to protect.

“If you think you’re up for it.” Keith challenged right back, earning a scowl from Ezor and a loud bark of laughter from Zethrid who elbowed her girlfriend in the side.

“He thinks you can’t bait him.”

Ezor tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and shot Keith a razor-sharp smile. “I can wrap anyone around my finger, boss. It worked for you.” Keith rolled his eyes, but it was halfhearted. Even if his girls only knew him as the Broker, he trusted them more than almost anyone and it felt good to let down his guard just a little. They always had as much fun as he did.

And that was evident when they went to ground, following their prey like a bloodhound in the streets. It didn’t matter that all they had to go on was a name and a face, he’d done more with less and the information Shiro had passed along was the edge he needed. It was easy to recognize the corner store in the background of Hasni’s photo, the cops hadn’t bothered to mark it. Why would they when there were a thousand little chain corner stores in the city?

The cops didn’t pay attention to the subtle details. They definitely didn’t take the time to cultivate relationships with the workers, learn their schedules, know their security. A place like that was open 24/7, that meant there was always someone on duty. Add in the fact they were targets for robberies, and that meant surveillance. Cameras. Alert workers who watched the streets at night and made note of suspicious customers for their own safety. It was a wealth of untapped information and always overlooked. Everyone was trained to ignore the people who served you, and the Broker knew them all.

It took a whispered word and a couple of twenties slipped across a counter as he bought a package of stale donuts. After that, it was in Ezor’s hands and she never disappointed.

Keith didn’t even like donuts.

They set up in a nondescript grey sedan with chipping paint and rusty edges. It was ugly, but that was fine. It wasn’t his car. Ezor decked herself out like the sorta girl that attracted trouble, even if she was mostly the type that caused it. It was three hours before Hasni made an appearance, and fifteen minutes after that before Ezor got up.

She might as well have dangled a lure. Hasni was on her immediately. Keith watched as she tucked her hair behind her ear, her shoulders shaking as she giggled.

“That’s disgusting.” Zethrid said from behind the wheel, and Keith snorted. He didn’t disagree. He dropped a curved black device on her lap, made her wrinkle her nose. “You know, this would work just as well with a real gun, boss.”

“I can’t let you shoot a guy just because he’s an asshole, or the city’d be empty, Zeth. Besides, we’re trying not to get the cops involved.”

She was still grumbling when he got out of the car, but Keith had to get in position. Ezor lured him in, Zethrid made him run.

She started with a loom, she was an expert at looming. It was one of Zethrid’s natural gifts. When Hasni looked up (and UP) at her, he was already shaking when she brandished the weapon.

_Bang._

It might not have been a real gun, but it sure sounded like it. He spooked like a rabbit, dropping low and scrambling away with a long string of curses. Hasni didn’t get far before a hand closed around the back of his neck as Zethrid hauled him off his feet and let him dangle.

“People are upset with you.” She growled around far too many teeth. “You’re in a lot of trouble and I’m here to collect.”

Hasni yelped and fought, squirming out of Zethrid’s hands in a desperate bid to escape. He never realized that she’d let him go as he scrambled to his feet and took off running. She followed at a more sedate pace, a predator completely confident that she was going to find her prey.

Keith stuck to the shadows along the skyline as he followed their progress. Everyone locked their doors and thought that made them safe, but people rarely looked up.

Keith liked the finesse of this, the thrill of moving from rooftop to rooftop where the street cameras below would never catch him. It didn’t take much in the way of equipment to swing between the open spaces, but there was always that rush, the chance he could fall and that everything would go wrong. The burst of adrenaline made his heart race.

Somewhere, Zethrid was laughing.

With a gasp, Hasni bolted around the corner of the alleyway, wide terrified eyes looking for any place to hide. Keith descended like a ghost.

Keith grasped him by the shirt and yanked him through a ‘conveniently unlocked’ door and closed it behind them. “Shhh.” He put his hands over his captive’s mouth and breathed a warning, feeling Hasni tremble against him. “She won’t find you in here, be quiet.”

It did nothing to calm him.

Good.

Hasni jerked like he’d been stung, going for something at his hip. Keith beat him to it. He slipped the gun out of Hasni’s holster and took a step back, leveling it squarely between his eyes. Hasni eyes were so wide, he could see a ring of white all around it, and Keith knew with certainty that if Hasni was asked to give a description of his attackers even ten minutes from now, he wouldn’t be able to tell up from down.

The Broker smiled.

With practiced ease, he replaced the gun’s safety before the bullet cartridge slid out with a rattling clang. “Careful.” Keith said, and he took his time now, removing the last bullet from the barrel. “Don’t want to hurt anyone.”

He handed everything back, one piece at a time and pretended not to notice when Hasni fumbled.

“I don’t know- who was that?” Hasni panted, finally finding his voice, adrenaline twisting his syllables and pulling Boston back into his accent. “Who’re you?!”

“That… could have been anyone. Goodwin’s people, or the Galra, maybe even Addler, though he’s been busy lately. Anyone in the game.” Even in the dim light, he could see Hasni go pale. “You didn’t think your success would go unnoticed for so long?”

Hasni looked like he swallowed his tongue. Babbled like it too. 

“They call me the Broker." He said softly, and watched with unrestrained glee as the blood drained from Hasni’s face. The terror in his eyes melted into something white hot and mindless and Keith had to admit, he enjoyed the feeling. He’d worked hard on his reputation, it was easier to let the fear to do the talking for him. 

“Do you know what I can do?” The man nodded. “Good. Then that means you probably understand why I’m here. You’ve caught someone’s attention, I’m here to offer you a way out.”

With great effort, Hasni rallied and managed to snap his gaping mouth shut, Keith had to admit he was impressed. The guy was low level scum, but he managed to look the Broker in the eye and when he spoke, his voice only cracked a few times. “I haven’t been stepping on toes, I’ve been careful. I don’t know anything.”

“That woman out there seems to think differently.” The Broker said with casual cruelty as Hasni paled. “Not someone  _I’d_  want to face on my own. I’m sure we can come to some kind of a deal. In exchange, I protect you.”

“You’d own me!”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Fuck you.” Hasni spat. “I’d rather take my chances with her than a monster like you.” 

The Broker looked delighted. Hasni took a step back. His lips had gone the color of paper.

“I know who sent her.”

The dealer flinched like he’d been hit, more of that wild, heedless fear spilling back into his gaze. He raised his gun a fraction, and remembered just in time that he was holding bullets in his other hand. Keith had to strain to hear him. “What do you want?”

“Seventy percent and your supplier.”

If Hasni jerked any harder, he was going to get whiplash. He bared his teeth like a cornered dog, tripping over his own feet as he struggled with what direction to turn to. “You’re fucked! I’ll handle her myself.”

“You’re going to regret that.”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.” He snarled, as if through a mouth full of fangs, and when he stormed out, the Broker didn’t stop him. Hasni almost managed to convince himself, too.

Keith toed at the bullet Hasni had dropped, watching it roll across the dusty floor as he counted to ten. Then twenty.

When he slipped out of their hiding hole, the alley was empty. He made sure the door was locked behind him before turning back to the main street. A car pulled up to the sidewalk.

“Hey stranger, you feeling lonely tonight?” Ezor winked. In the backseat, Zethrid laughed.

“Keep talking like that, and one day I’ll take you up on it.” Keith said, completely deadpan. Ezor scowled.

“Ew.”

“You know, you’ll have to work a bit more on your intimidation act, Zethrid. Hasni was willing to face you instead of working with me. I’m almost disappointed.” Keith teased as Zethrid furrowed her brows and cracked her knuckles menacingly.

“That’s only because he’s an idiot. Anyone could see I could break him in half while your puny arms wouldn’t even leave a bruise.” No one would dare accuse Zethrid of pouting and live, but it was tempting. Ezor snickered and wiggled over to plant a kiss on her cheek.

“I’m sure he knows how big and scary you are.”

“Hrmf.”

“So boss,” Ezor tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. “Did you do your part or did you just enjoy threatening him too much?”

Keith reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, with a GPS tracker blinking on an overlay of the city’s map. “Everywhere he goes, we’ll know about it. He’s not really big enough to waste our efforts on, but he’ll lead us to something more interesting eventually.” He said smugly.  "I still know how to do my job, thanks."

Ezor rolled her eyes. “Of course you do, boss. You’re the eyes in the sky, you’ve got to know everybody’s business at all times.”

“What did you say?”

“If you’re looking for someone to primp up your ego, that’ll cost, too.” Ezor drawled.

“I thought he was on call in this scenario.”

Ezor waved her hand impatiently at Zethrid. Keith wasn’t listening anymore. It was basic leg work, the sort they taught you straight out of the academy. He should have thought of it first, should have thought of it days ago, but Shiro had been there, and he’d been so distracted. Shiro. Keith could feel the blood drain out of his face.

Yeah, Shiro.

It had been days since he’d even thought about the Galra. He’d thrown everything he knew into a metaphorical box and filed it away with the rest of his cases that ended in bad turns. Lotor hadn’t contacted him. Nothing had resurfaced, so Keith had just… let it go. For Shiro.

Shiro wouldn’t want him to do this. He’d  _promised_ not to.

But it was just a lead. It would be easier to ask forgiveness than permission. Besides…Shiro loved him, right?

“Hey, drop me off at Chinatown.”


	5. Chapter 5

There was a reason that the Broker was the best. 

It wasn’t his reputation for brutality or the fear his associates inspired, it was because he did his homework. It was something he’d prided himself on. That he should have been doing this days ago was still a sore spot, but he got everything he wanted from Chinatown. 

Keith’s eyes burned after long hours of pouring over hours of CCTV footage from street cameras around the Lion Gate restaurant. He walked the blocks, noting the flow of traffic, the people, the late night visitors skulking through the darkness. Shiro had taught him to be patient and take the time to plan, putting together all the pieces and never making a move until he knew where to strike. It was hard work and it was overly careful, but it always paid off in the end.

_Shiro._

He pushed the thought away before it could overwhelm him. Every moment spent following the tenuous leads for Lotor’s mission was a betrayal. He promised Shiro he’d leave the Galra alone, but he couldn’t when he started to see how it all tied together. The courier had new shoes, Keith remembered marking them absently before the shooting had started. Clean, expensive, no scuff marks from riding through the city to deliver packages. In fact, he couldn’t remember seeing a bike at all and couriers rarely used cars for these kinds of deliveries, especially when they could be easily tracked.

He must have been from somewhere close by, and Keith hunted him through grainy images, catching glimpses of the courier as he cut through alleyways and through buildings to trace him back to the source. It brought him to a warehouse only blocks from the Lion Gate.

The warehouse was in the care of Unilu Trading Inc. The name meant nothing to him. More important were the men who arrived at the warehouse after the courier had left - Throk and a bearded man Keith recognized from Lotor’s pictures. He watched as they talked to a security guard, slipping him something that he squirreled away with suspicious ease.

Keith paused the footage, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing a hand over his face. This was it. This was everything he’d wanted. The beginning of the end, and if he played his cards right, the Galra would be nothing more than a bad memory.

Shiro was still getting that promotion.

He picked up his phone, scrolled through his contacts as if he didn’t have his handler’s number memorized.

This wasn’t fair to anyone.

Instead, he picked out  _Ezor_  and sent a quick message requesting a meeting. She replied immediately. Keith pretended that meant it was too late to back out.

They met at the girls’ apartment. Keith handed over an image of the security guard, as polished as he could get it. They’d worked with less before. They already had his place of work. This was a walk in the park.

“Find out who this is, and who he was talking to last week, at around nine p.m.”

Ezor pulled the picture closer and tapped her long, colorful nails on the guard’s face. Something fizzled in the air. Keith only caught a glimpse of it, as the girls exchanged a look. 

“So, you’re really making a play for them.” It was a statement more than a question and Keith gave her a lazy smile.

“The best takes down the best, what can I say?”

“Boss.” Zethrid’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, and if the Broker knew better, he would have thought she gave a shit. He dismissed them both with a wave. He still had Shiro’s voice in the back of his mind, quiet and disapproving, he didn’t need the same from his subordinates.

“Find out everything you can, I want to know what he knows. Just don’t break him this time?” He said. “Call me when you have something.”

Ezor’s grin was back in an instant as she blew Keith a kiss. “You know it, boss. The  _real_  best do all the work.” 

She teased and they laughed as Keith struggled to keep composure and failed. There was no hiding his pride. They’d started off as a means to an end to lend credibility to his Broker persona, but Keith couldn’t help but see them as friends. Without them, none of this could have ever been possible. 

But they had their job. He wasn’t finished  yet.

He poured over the scraps of information he could find using Shiro’s login to protected police databases, pulling records on all the buildings in the surrounding blocks. He tracked back funding from shell company to shell company behind Unilu Trading, each one getting himself one step closer to whoever was running the Quintessence smuggling operation that fed the city’s dealers. A couple of names began to look familiar: Frank Dawson, Holland Hancock. This had to be the right path, no one went this far to bury who they were unless they were hiding something, but Keith peeled back each layer to see what secrets squirmed out into the light.

When the last one finally did, he sat back in his chair, table covered in copies of financial records and blueprints, and just stared.

Yaakov Freer. 

Alias Jacob Freer. The guy running for City Mayor, the one who claimed he would clean up Altea if given half the chance. It took Keith all of three minutes to find him on the news, standing on a podium in front of a sea of people in bright blue hats, smiling handsomely for the camera.

_“- and say these challenges are real. These challenges are true. For too long have we turned a blind eye to what our city really needs. Improvement to education, better access to healthcare, a stop to gentrification where we didn’t ask for it and politicians who aren’t afraid to say the names of the criminals tearing us apart!”_

Mom on the A Team, deadbeat dad lost somewhere in the system or the other way around, he was a story too much of the city knew too well, but he’d clawed his way out of it, and made himself into something better.

The Broker had gotten too many jobs begging for dirt on Freer. He’d told each and every one of them to pick up the guy’s biography, it was all in there, including his stint at juvie and how he’d pulled himself into an Ivy League school on merit alone. Keith didn’t believe Freer was as clean as the papers liked to make him seem, no civilian could be, but he was clean enough that he was bad for the Broker’s business.

He was setting himself up to be the savior of the city, when he was the source of its poison. If he was elected, then he’d own Altea from top to bottom.

This was bigger than he knew how to deal with. Keith slumped forward as Freer’s voice droned on in the background with his sweet sounding lies. 

The Galra were big enough, but this? How could he trust the police to handle someone like this? He was respected, trusted, his influence spread throughout the city. He couldn’t make a run on Freer without absolute proof of his involvement or he’d walk away clean while Keith’s reputation would be shattered.

But he could do this. He had to. No one else in the city knew that their golden boy was tainted. If he took down Freer, he could break the Quintessence ring at the source and give the city a chance to heal. Keith’s thoughts turned to Shiro, and he steeled himself. After this, he’d have made a difference and could finally walk away. Shiro would have to understand, they both started this to help people, after all.

The phone rang, and Keith answered without looking. “Yeah?”

“Who’s the best at their job, boss?” Ezor’s voice came teasing through the speaker. “I’ve got a lead on your boy from a friend of a friend of a friend who works security. Guys like that see a lot of what happens at night and they get real lonely. They just love to brag when the pretty girls come around.”

“Spare me the details, just tell me what you found.”

He could almost hear Ezor pout. “Fiiiiine. Someone bought your guy’s silence. A group of rough looking boys, about three of ‘em? Rumors are they have some kind of job tonight at Pier 17. Sounds like a nasty place to do business in the dark, if you ask me.”  
  
Keith rifled through the information he’d picked up, skimming shell company after shell company until he found one that looked promising. Freer had a place on Pier 17. When Ezor rattled off the exact address, Keith smelled blood.  
  
The Galra were in league with Freer, or Freer was trying to poach the Galra right out from under Lotor’s upturned nose. He couldn’t tell which was more scandalous.   
  
“You and Zeth get over there. Do a perimeter check, but be ready to move. We’ll play it like we did with Hasni. Let me make a few calls then I’ll get back to you.”  
  
“This is a bit short notice, boss.” It took Keith a second to recognize what rang through Ezor’s voice because it was so damn rare. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her  _hesitate_.   
  
“See anything that’ll cause trouble?” Keith frowned, unsure if he meant to talk her down or double check. This was a little on the fast side, even for the Broker, but it had been days since Lotor made his offer. Keith doubted he was the only one of his payroll.   
  
“No, but the Bachelorette’s got reruns playing that I’d hate to miss.” Ezor laughed, and Keith’s doubt bled away. He must’ve been imagining shit. He was too invested in this. 

“I’ll be sure to get you home in time for your trash tv.” Keith promised. He ended the call and grabbed his coat.

 

* * *

 

This close to the bay, the air smelled like rotting fish and old algae. It was heavy and wet and only seemed to sharpen the cold. It was the perfect place for out of the way dealings. The warehouses were barely regulated, and inspectors could never keep up with the cargo containers stacked higher than their neighboring buildings by the unloading docks. If Freer wanted to lose his name behind shady deals, no one would ever look for him here and even if they did, it would be easy enough to claim he’d never been involved. Evidence was lost amidst the chaos, but the Broker always had an eye for detail.

He’d studied the warehouses along Pier 17 as well as the surrounding buildings, learning the layout from blueprints supplied by his contact ( _by Shiro’s contact_ ) at City Hall. Having a badge was useful when the research was legit. He’d even called for surveillance backup, crossing his t’s and dotting is i’s so Shiro wouldn’t have anything to lecture him about.

Shiro had seemed distant when Keith called, but he hadn’t asked. If Keith thought too much about his disappointment, it stung.

The lecture was definitely waiting for him, but at least he could say he tried to follow protocol. It was more than he usually did, but with a catch as big as Freer on the line, he wasn’t going to take any chances or give that slimy politician any change to wiggle free. When he finally exposed Freer, all of his evidence would stand up to their scrutiny.

He found Ezor and Zethrid in another old car that neither of them owned, and his ribs tightened uncomfortably. This wasn’t fair to them. Once this case started, they’d be facing attack from every angle. They could get dragged through the dirt by the Galra, Freer, or the investigation that followed. For the longest time, Keith had needed them; he probably still did, but if tonight went as he hoped it would, he swore he’d give them an out, give them the chance to turn away. Even if he hoped they’d stay.

“Took you long enough,” Zethrid greeted when he slipped into the front passenger’s seat. “We thought you got lost, boss.”

“Like I said, I was-”

“Making calls, yeah, yeah.” Ezor huffed, stretched across the backseat and making quick work of a cup of french fries.

Keith shrugged. She wasn’t wrong. “Any problems?”

Zethrid shook her head. “Someone paid the security guard to look the other way for a few nights. He’s taking a nap, so we won’t get any trouble over there.”

“We checked out the skyline. Counted three, maybe four guys in the warehouse, but it didn’t look like they were doing inventory. It all fits,” Ezor said. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m going to take a closer look. I want to see what they’re doing before we flush them out. One of my contacts tipped me off that there’ll be police presence later tonight, which means we got a way to shake things up if things go bad.” He grinned. “But it’s us, so it won’t.  Zeth, you stick with Ezor this time. We use the cops to scare them, but they’re not on my payroll. If they get too close, just get out. I’m not bailing either of you out. I’ll signal if I need bait.”

“That it?” Zethrid asked.

“I need eyes on the doors, I don’t want to be surprised by anyone else crashing the party. When I give you the signal, then move in. Just be careful.” Keith stopped, tried to disguise his fumble. Careful wasn’t anything the Broker cared for, but the more Keith thought about, the more he couldn’t shake it. This was the Galra. This was so much more than they had signed up for. He thought they must have felt some of it.

They didn’t seem as excited as normal. Ezor always loved the thrill of a tough job, and Zethrid was an adrenaline junkie with a reckless violent streak, both things Keith understood and applauded, but they were uncharacteristically nervous. “You really sure about this, boss?”

He rolled his eyes and gave Ezor his best poisonous smile, the Broker’s mask firmly in place. “Oh, I’m real sure. This is gonna be a fun one, ladies, you should enjoy yourselves more. You have blanket permission to break anyone’s face even if you don’t absolutely have to.”

It was a challenge, admittedly, something he would need to handle with a delicate touch. But Keith was thrumming with anticipation. He was standing on the precipice of something greater, something that had the possibility of changing everything as long as he played his cards right. This could be the end of everything.

No one said anything else as he left the car. Show time.

The girls hadn’t warned him about anyone guarding the perimeter. He checked anyway. There was a fire door towards the back of the warehouse, and no wiring to suggest an alarm. He propped it open and slipped in unseen. Most of the warehouse was dipped in shadow, but towards the offices on the platform overlooking the work floor, he could see a flicker of light. Keith clicked a small penlight on and swept the beam across the empty warehouse floor. 

There was no one watching the staircase above. Keith looked around for security cameras anyway. It wouldn’t do to spook them now.

Strange. 

A place like this should have had at least some kind of rudimentary security system, but he couldn’t see any cameras at all. Either Freer didn’t want his activities on camera or the cameras were more expensive and more subtle than a crappy half-abandoned warehouse by the docks deserved. A small prickle of worry crept into the back of his thoughts, but he banished it quickly. He couldn’t afford any distractions.

Keith moved through the darkness with liquid grace. This was his element, invisible and silent, adrenaline racing through his body with every step he took. He savored the taste of danger, letting it hone his senses razor sharp as he picked his way carefully through the cluttered warehouse floor. It might have been run down from the outside, but inside, the building was full of crates and boxes, sealed tight and stacked stories tall up towards the high ceiling. He stilled his breath, listening for any sound.

Nothing.

No soft scuffle of steps or quiet breaths. No low murmur of voices. It seemed like the entire building was empty, just the light in the offices. Good, Keith didn’t want to be interrupted. He touched his hidden earpiece, listening for his police backup but still heard nothing.  _C’mon, Shiro. I need more eyes on this_. He was being uncharacteristically careful. Too much was riding on this now.

Ascending the staircase, he kept eyes sharp, the blood pulsing in his veins like a heated knife, demanding he strike. This was purely reconnaissance. He would get a better grasp on what he was dealing with so after Throk and his goons got their scare, the Broker would be their savior.

Still no sound, but he thought he saw what could be the silhouette of a man or an ugly coat rack, but it didn’t move. This close, Keith caught a glimpse of the lamp in the corner, the warehouse’s only source of light. He turned off his torch.

Already he was planning how he’d get the drop on Throk. He was tempted to mention Freer’s name just to see, and his stomach flipped excitedly.

It dropped like a stone a second later.

The office was as still as a grave. A pile of papers lay strewn across the floor. Someone had made a mess in a hurry, and at the corner of it all, a thick splatter of ink. It left streaks across the floor, drag marks that lead deeper into the office.

All at once Keith realized it wasn’t ink at all. It was blood.

At the end of the path was Throk, his eyes dull and mouth hanging open, like he’d died before he could scream.

Keith inhaled sharply, heart clenching as he slowly eased forward. The light revealed the horror, peeling back the shadows that now seemed almost a mercy. Throk wasn’t the only one who lay motionless in a puddle of his own blood. Two others dressed in security guard uniforms lay slumped over, their faces turned away. He knelt beside one to feel for a pulse and jerked his hand back when he realized the corpse was still warm.

They’d died recently, gunned down in some brutal attack and left to bleed out on the concrete floor if they hadn’t died immediately like Throk had. Keith pushed down the sick feeling in his stomach and kept moving, following the spatters of blood. 

A fourth body sat sprawled in a chair at the desk. It faced the wall, but a bullet hole clear at the side of his head. Keith turned the chair around to get a better look and felt his heart freeze.  _Freer!_

Photos lay scattered across the desk beneath a gun that smelled like it had been recently fired and the dread coiled in Keith’s chest darkened. Each photo showed his face as he skulked around the neighborhood researching Freer’s business operations. He’d been so confident in his own abilities, the Broker doing his own legwork before he moved in. It had always been one of his strengths, but someone had been watching him this entire time. And the gun. 

Keith’s had hovered over the weapon before pulling back in shock. He knew that gun. He hadn’t touched it in months. It was his police-issued weapon. No one was supposed to know that. Someone had set him up.

He touched the earpiece as he backed away, flight response kicking in. “Shiro? Shiro where are you?” Keith whispered, but there was no reply. No one had been sent as back up, he was on his own.

But in the distance, there were flashing lights.

Keith swore.

He had to get out of here. His head was spinning, trying to recall every inch of the room he’d touched. He wiped the door handle on his way out, called himself an idiot, but he couldn’t stop. He tore through the building in a run, any hope of subterfuge was forgotten. He’d get to the girls, regroup from a distance, contact Shiro. It had to be Lotor. Somehow, it had to be Lotor. He burst through the fire exit, and wiped it down with hands that remarkably steady even if the rest of trembled.

When he got to the alley, there was no one there. Ezor and Zethrid were gone.

Red and blue filled the night.

Keith took off running.

He didn’t hear the shot, he didn’t see it fire, but he felt it when it tore into him, the force of the bullet sending him staggering into the warehouse wall. Keith cried out into cement, his entire chest flooded with the warmth of his own blood, but he was already reaching for the Broker’s gun, eyes wild and unafraid. Then there was the shooter. Keith’s knees went weak.

“Shiro?”

Gun still raised, he stared Keith down without fear. There was no cruelty or satisfaction in his eyes. Keith couldn’t believe he was real.

And even then, the pieces didn’t click in Keith’s mind. It was too impossible, unthinkable. He  _knew_  Shiro, everything about him. His wants and his loves and his vulnerabilities. He knew what Shiro looked like when he fought his addiction with shaky hands and weakening will, the way he looked when he woke up in the morning, lazy and relaxed. He knew the way Shiro’s voice hitched when he whispered the words ‘I love you’ when he thought Keith was asleep. Shiro was his best friend, his partner, his- all the things Keith was too afraid to admit. No matter how he fucked up, there was no one on earth he trusted more.

He watched Shiro with confusion, struggling as it felt like the world opened up beneath his feet and he was falling. 

“Shiro?” Keith called again, pleading and almost hopeful even as the warm wetness soaked through his shirt. Shiro was here for him, just like he’d always been and always would be.

Keith took a step forward and dropped the gun, reaching out bloody hands even as he lost his footing. Strong arms caught him from landing on the pavement.

“I told you to leave it alone.”

Keith went cold, the words a blade that cleaved him in two. All his arrogance, his certainty that the Broker could make the world dance on the ends of a string shattered into razor sharp glass. He looked up into Shiro’s face and only saw a stranger looking back.

The world went black


	6. Chapter 6

Shiro watched the flickering security feeds as more guests poured into the conference room. Every sector of the Galra empire worth any merit would send a representative to the “board meeting.” Those who could afford to would make personal appearances, and many did everything they could to manage that. It wasn’t often that an emergency assembly was called. At the last one, it was announced that the Emperor was to be considered  _permanently indisposed._  Keith’s body hadn’t been cold for even an hour. A dead man was easier to frame.

A wet thumb pinched his cheek, and he took a step back, scowling. In front of him, Ezor just grinned wider, continued trying to pinch his face off. “Must’ve been a long time since you were doing grunt work, if you’re leaving messes like this, Shirogane.”

“Stop it.” He swatted at her hand, and she danced away with exaggerated effort.

“I mean it,” Ezor teased, voice lilting like a singsong. “Fix your face. Anyone who can read you’ll see you fretting from a mile away.”

“It’s a good thing you’re the only one who can.” Shiro frowned. “I don’t like this.”

Ezor looked at the camera monitors that displayed different areas of the convention center, and Shiro watched  _her_. She still pursed her lips when she was thinking, the way she’d used to at the beginning of all this, when an unlicensed gun still made her hands shake. “I know what you mean. It’s going to be a dog and pony show, or he’s going to blow up everyone in that room. I’m wearing a nice dress, too.”

“It suits you.” Some said behind them.

They both tensed. Being caught off-guard was never good in their line of work, and tonight they were in a den of predators. A familiar face greeted them with a curt nod, almost a smile.

For Acxa, Shiro managed to return it.

She crossed the room with an effortless grace and reached for Shiro, smoothing down the lapels of his suit jacket. “It’s good to have you back.”

Shiro’s mouth pressed into an unhappy line, unable to say the same. “It’s been a while.”

“Ezor’s right, anyone who can read you is going to know exactly what you’re thinking.” She said softly, but the warning was clear in her voice. “You can’t let that happen tonight.”

Shiro bristled. “I’ll do whatever I have to so he can claw his way to the top like he always wanted, but I’m not going to be one of the smiling, drugged-out dolls he keeps on call.”

“You’ll be whatever he tells you to be, Shiro.” Acxa’s voice was sharp enough to make Ezor wince. She sighed and let go of his jacket, rubbing the space between her eyes. “We’re all going to be exactly what he tells us to be tonight and none of us are going to slip up.”

“You didn’t see what he did to them, Acxa. I knew he was ruthless, but I’ve never seen him like that before.” Shiro kept his voice down so no one else could hear, but the girls shifted uncomfortably. Ezor dropped her eyes to the side and even Acxa seemed worried, crossing her arms over her chest with a frown.

“It’s just the pressure he’s been under.” She said, even though they all knew it sounded like an excuse. “You know what he’s been up against. He did what he thought he had to do, but now it’s over and we can all move on. We just-, we just need to be a little careful for now, okay?” She looked between the pair. “All of us.”

“Does he know you’re here?” Ezor spoke up from across the room, a picture of cultivated boredom from her upturned nose to the careless way she picked at her nails. They both knew better. They liked to pretend that they didn’t. Acxa didn’t answer.

Shiro cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to the monitors. “It’s show time.”

On screen, the elevator rose. They were little more than pawns in a bigger game, and the kingpin had just walked in.

 

* * *

 

No one turned when the door of the boardroom opened, but they were all watching. With ice in his eyes and steel in his veins, the first lieutenant of the Galra Empire commanded attention before he took his first breath. At his left, proud and unafraid was a high-ranking member of the Altean Police Department that enough of the Empire knew to avoid. At his right was his enforcer, or she would be, if anyone could prove it was ever her finger on the trigger.  

Lotor was born in a den of wolves and baptized in their blood. Today, he would claim what was his right by birth.

“Gentlemen. Ladies. Have a seat.” 

He took a place at the head of the table. It did not go unnoticed. 

“What’s this about, Lotor?” Reece Morgan asked, grey at his hair and eyes. He managed enough of the southern territories that he thought he was important enough to speak up whenever someone held court. He was not entirely wrong, but all Lotor spared him was a look of detached disinterest.

“My friends, I have called you hear to discuss a vital shift in our paradigm.” Lotor said around a smile full of fangs. “The Galra have always operated in the shadows, building our Empire and our influence behind the scenes. It has worked for us in the past, but if we want to survive, it’s time to step into the light. It is time we demand  _more._ ” 

He held out his hands, a savior calmly offering them salvation. The voices in the room grumbled with quiet discontent and confusion, though Reece spoke loudly enough for them all.

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with the way we do business. Profits are up, we’re the biggest game in town. There’s no reason to change.”

“And we could be more.  There is more to gain than profit. We have a chance for real power here, not dependent on the blind eyes of our betters. We can  _be_ that power, Reece. We can be the ones controlling the city like we were always meant to be. Rulers at every level.”

Reece curled his lip. “And how do you propose we do that?”

“Freer is dead.” A thick silence fell over the room as shock stole away their arguments. Freer had been a point of discontent, a growing threat of unknown potential. That Lotor had beaten the rest of the underworld to do what they all dreamed of was a point of awe and contempt. 

“You moved against-” Reece slipped up, shock clear on his features. Lotor silenced him with a glance. That sort of talk was dangerous, and Reece went very pale.

“The man opened the door for us and my people have been taking advantage of that for years. We’ve used him to put loyal Galra in place. The city of Altea needs its leader who can promise a new era of prosperity and control. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is me.”

“What use is one dead politician?” Someone in the back of the room dared.

“Jacob Freer was far more than one dead politician.”

Every head turned to face the opposite end of the room. The door closed with a soft click. Standing before them all, wearing a serene smile that didn’t reach her cold eyes was Haggar. Lotor’s mouth pinched into a thin line, the only outward sign of his discontent, but Shiro was close enough to see that he’d stopped breathing.

“He was the driving supplier behind the Quintessence trade, with ties to some of our closest competitors. Goodwin, Addler, O'Flanagan. And as of this moment, we have complete control of his organization.”

The situation was shifting in a thousand different ways, like the sinking of a sand dune. Lotor could not find his footing. When he spoke, it was as if he didn’t want to be heard. “What did you say?”

Haggar smiled.

“It is entirely thanks to Lotor’s efforts that we’ve gained such a momentous advantage. For that, he has my gratitude and my respect.” Her words were honey, but Lotor was shaking, trembling so minutely he didn’t seem to realize it. Even the most determined liar couldn’t stop the blood from draining from his face. “In a few, short hours, he will claim the public mantle for the Galra Empire, an invaluable ally to help guide the vision of our new Emperor.”

The gathered Galra murmured to each other in surprise, but Shiro only had eyes for Lotor. His boss had an iron control, but he couldn’t keep the rage from seeping through the cracks or the hatred in his eyes as he watched Haggar speak. Lotor’s wrath was a dangerous thing and anyone who failed to miss the signs should have been afraid.

“The future of our organization is through legitimate avenues of power.” Lotor said in an even voice. “Freer’s death has offered us an opportunity to not only seize his business, but to use his position and propel us into a whole new sphere of influence. We can own this city from the top down instead of relying on others to work on our behalf. We can operate in the open without consequence or competition.”

“Well-spoken, Lotor, and commendable work. You have accomplished more than we thought possible.” Haggar waved her hand dismissively, shattering Lotor’s carefully planned speech with a single gesture. “Freer’s fate has been sealed for a long time. He has given  _me_  his base of operations and his entire network of distributors. Even now, I’m being named the recipient of his estate and will use his assets to bolster the Galra’s power along the path our founder, Zarkon, would have wanted before his disappearance. And to see Zarkon’s vision through, I have named his right hand, Sendak, as our next Emperor.”

She gave Lotor a smile as a large man in an expensive tailored suit stepped forward. “Lotor, I am sure your little political venture will offer Sendak some benefit he can use.”

Another burst of conversation rose through the ranks of the Galra. This time it was excited. And vicious. For far too long they’d shied away from the truth of their Emperor’s absence. This wasn’t a solution they could unanimously agree on, but no such solution existed, and Sendak had many supporters. He’d carved his reputation with ruthlessness and disquieting bloodlust.

Haggar held up a hand, commanding silence. The world halted at her whim.

“None of this would have been possible without Lotor’s dedication, and we honor his diligence. Vrepit Sa.”

“Vrepit Sa.”

The words echoed through the boardroom, as close to applause as the Galra would allow themselves. Their respect and their gratitude was sincere and freely given. It was everything Lotor wanted, and nothing he needed. Haggar was still watching him.

He bowed his head, mouth carved into an ill-fitting smile that made Shiro’s blood run cold.

“Vrepit Sa.”

 

* * *

 

“That  _hag_.” The insult was barbed, voice drenched in venom, but Lotor kept his fury tightly bound. It only made Shiro more nervous. The inner sanctum at the Empire was the one safe place that Lotor could tear apart with his bare hands, but he set his drink down carefully and let the hatred seethe within him, expression as calm as ever. His lieutenants stood silently by and exchanged worried glances without speaking a word. “How did she know about this? This is my birthright, she and her new ‘champion’ are going to destroy everything we’ve built.”

He turned to Shiro, running a hand through his long, pale hair. His stare was enough to keep Shiro rooted to the spot. After everything, Shiro hated that this side of him was too familiar. When he got to his feet, every move was calculated, the soles of his shoes tapping to a rhythm of dread.

“We’ve been planning our move against Freer for months, I used assets that I’ve been cultivating for years out of her reach to make sure they weren’t tainted. Can you explain to me how she was able to outmaneuver us?”

There was no right answer. “No, sir.” Shiro ground the words out, relying on obedience to deflect Lotor’s mood.

“Should I have watched you more carefully, Shiro?” He drew his knuckle down the side of Shiro’s face, earning a shiver. “I’ve been good to you, I’ve taken away your pain and held your leash lightly enough to let you and your pet play without my oversight. Isn’t that enough?”

“I’ve done everything you’ve ordered me to, sir.”

“I know, always so grudgingly loyal.” Lotor’s voice dropped into something soft, intimate, a mockery of kindness that still set Shiro’s rebellious heart fluttering with ugly, ancient affection he’d thought he’d buried long ago. “Did you betray me because you were jealous I played with him and still won’t let you touch me?”

Shiro’s jaw clenched, the only sign he hadn’t be able to mask, but it was enough. There was blood in the water, and Lotor was looking for any reason to strike.

“No one betrayed you, Lotor.” Acxa said, tone crisp and firm and utterly fearless. She always was. She stepped neatly in front of Shiro, like it cost her nothing, but her posture straightened, the tips of her fingers twitching towards her holster. “No one made any mistakes. We’ve double and triple checked all our work. She must have sources we missed. You know how she is. But we can still rally. We will fix this.”

Lotor turned to her. Acxa stared back coolly, and nothing betrayed her racing pulse. On the far end of the room, Zethrid was frowning. Ezor had gone very still, and Narti’s stare bored holes in the back of Lotor’s head.

“ _You_ made no mistakes.”

Lightning quick, he reached behind her, grabbing Shiro by the arm and yanking him forward. In one quick movement, he threw Shiro into the table and slammed his blade down in the middle of his forearm. It went straight through to lodge into the table. Shiro screamed.

Steel scraped against metal and sensitive electronics, pinning Shiro to the table as white hot pain seared through his arm. He writhed, trying to pull the blade free, but Lotor’s hand on the hilt kept him pinned. “Did you think that I wouldn’t notice?” Lotor asked calmly as Shiro sucked in short, shallow breaths and tried to keep from passing out from the pain. “I’ve given you everything you wanted, Shiro. Was your loyalty too much to ask for in return?”

“I-I didn’t! I never talked to Haggar, n-no one knew.” Shiro gasped.

“Lotor!” Acxa made no move to stop her boss, but tried to appeal on Shiro’s behalf. “He’d never sell you out to her, you know how she would have used him. He’s not the reason for any of this.”

Lotor yanked the blade free in a spray of sparks as Shiro’s knees buckled. He collapsed to the floor and cradled his ruined arm. “Oh, I know that. But he still made mistakes, he let himself be led astray by his own emotions. He’ll know better than to let it happen again.” Lotor wiped his blade clean with an easy elegance before slowly circling the room like a stalking predator. “One of you did betray me to her, someone I brought into my closest circle. What was the price for turning on me? What did she offer you that you couldn’t ask from me?”

For a long moment, no one moved. Nothing but Shiro’s ragged breathing interrupted the silence. Then Acxa reached into her holster, pulled out a gun, and thumbed off the safety. She hadn’t it to Lotor in one, smooth motion.

“If you believe that, then shoot.”

Shiro watched them through a haze of pain, horror somehow managing to cut through his pain. When Lotor leaned forward, he tensed, but Acxa remained unwavering. He didn’t hear what their boss whispered to her, and couldn’t piece anything from her stony expression, but Lotor gave the room one last, sharp glance, and said, “Clean up. Tomorrow we find out exactly how the hag managed this.”

He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Calm took a moment longer to return.

Ezor was the first one by his side, picking together the unresponsive pieces of Shiro’s prosthetic before swearing under her breath. “That fuck- I can, let me.”

Shiro let her pull up his sleeve. The skin around his socket was flushed an angry red, but at his nod, she unfastened it. As much as Shiro hated to let her, he wasn’t sure he would have managed it right now. Then Narti was there, her fingers working deftly to shape out each word, but Shiro still managed a smile. “Not one of my better nights, no.”

“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.” Zethrid said to Acxa, across the room. Acxa still hadn’t moved from her spot, watching the door like she expected it to burst open at any moment. She glanced up at Zethrid after a beat, her gaze hard, but whatever she was going to say was lost as she shook her head. The hand around her gun was shaking.

Gently, Zethrid pried it from her numb fingers and replaced the safety.

“It’s busted, I don’t think I can fix this.” Ezor said, setting the ruined prosthetic down beside Shiro. “Sorry.”

“I’ll manage.” It was the best he could do, even as the waves of pain still made his breath hitch and his head spin. He needed his medication, anything to stop the screaming. Acxa finally crossed the room and helped Shiro sit, pointedly not looking at the sparking mechanical arm on the table.

“He’s just stressed.” An excuse and a weak one, they all knew it but no one contradicted Acxa as she tried to convince them anyways. Or maybe she was trying to convince herself. “You know how long he’s been planning this, it wasn’t supposed to be a win for the witch. Give him time to calm down and everything will go back to normal.”

“As if normal is good, Acxa? He wasn’t wrong about that, I want  _out_.” Shiro said between clenched teeth as he searched his pockets for his pills. “I didn’t want to be caught up in this in the first place.”

“Don’t blame me, all I did was make the introduction. You were in pain, Shiro. We all saw it, and Lotor helped you. You owe him for that, we all owe him for everything he’s done.” She snapped back, helping him find the little bottle before stepping back in a huff.

Ezor’s eyes slid to the side, glancing worriedly at Zethrid as Shiro downed too many pills at once. “He’s been good to us.” She said reluctantly, as Shiro gave a dry laugh.

“That’s not enough.”

No one stopped him when Shiro turned to leave.

Much later, he dragged himself back to the office. The Altean Police Department wasn’t in turmoil, but it wanted to be. The death of Jacob Freer was a clusterfuck in its own right. Throw in a dirty cop, and everything was coming to a head. Shiro ignored it all, kept his head high, his shoulders tense. There was a half-finished report on his laptop, outlining everything about Keith Kogane that he was supposed to know, peppered with enough lies to make it sell.

Shiro ignored it.

He looked for something else, anything else to do. His shoulder ached, the weight and fit of an older prosthetic noticeable enough to be a nuisance, and with his door unlocked and the blinds open, he took another handful of little white pills.

_Anything else._

That was when he noticed it, a voicemail on his personal phone. He didn’t move from his position, just thumbed across the screen and hit play. A voice whispered through his room, one Shiro had thought he’d never hear again.

“You fucking piece of shit. I know what you did, and I’m coming for you.”


	7. Chapter 7

Alex Hasni sat in front of his television, feet on the coffee table, eating soggy Thai out of an old takeout container. On the evening news was a tall blond man that looked like he’d cut you for looking at him the wrong way or get his daddy to do it.

Lotor’s voice was velvet smooth, the perfect measure of grieving and determined.  _“… a tragedy for all of us. Jacob has touched so many lives, and we will not let his work be forgotten. In his memory, I am moving forward in his steed as representative for the Mayoral Campaign, and I hope-”_

There was a click. Hasni didn’t notice immediately, not with the speech ongoing, but in his peripheries, something moved in the shadows. He glanced over his shoulder, felt stupid for thinking it and snorted to himself in the privacy of his empty room. Now that he’d thought it, the idea wouldn’t leave him alone. He saw nothing for another minute, his ears cocked for any sign, but city politics no longer held his interest.

Hasni got to his feet and started down the hall.

He didn’t bring anything. This was his home. He refused to cower at shadows. 

He should have been more careful. 

With a heavy thud, an old iron he’d never used slammed into the back of his skull. He fell like a ton of bricks.

For a moment, Keith just stood there, teeth grit and knuckles white as he braced for a counter-attack. After a moment of nothing but his own labored breathing, he dropped the iron and walked deeper into the room.

Pain flooded through his body. He was freezing cold, and soaked to the skin. His hands were caked in mud, and his shoes soggy with it. If he closed his eyes, he could still remember the riverbank, the way water lapped around him, a soft pull around his hips. He didn’t know how long it had been. When he’d come to, the sky was a dull black, all the stars swallowed in the lights of the city. At the edge of the river, the darkness had been almost absolute.

He’d been dumped there, just another body to be washed away and forgotten.  _Shiro had dumped him there_.

The betrayal hurt worse than the pain and Keith could barely control his breathing when all he wanted to do was curl up and sob. He thought he could escape it, had dragged himself through civilization for a hint of survival, but grief was a potent thing.

He smeared shaking hands against his soggy pants and delicately touched the wound in his chest. Pain flared as he moved. Trembling fingers peeled back his shirt and carefully touched the line of stained cloth holding it in place.

It was shallower than it should be with no sign of the bullet. He’d been able to staunch the bleeding, but there was a bloody car that he’d have to dispose of once he caught his breath. God.

This was such a mess.

He kicked Hasni in the head one last time, and walked deeper into his apartment.

Water dripped from the ends of his pant legs to puddle across the floor as Keith stripped off his wet, muddy clothes and left them in the middle of Hasni’s floor like the man himself. The apartment itself was small and crowded, boxes stacked in the corners like Hasni hadn’t bothered to ever unpack. The television had been put up, a man had his priorities. Take out boxes and empty beer bottles crowded every available surface and spilled over the floor.

But the worst part were the pictures. They covered the walls like wallpaper, tacked up and crowding each other. Keith paused to look and shuddered at the voyeur’s obsession. Each one showed young women caught unaware, some with the same woman across multiple shots. One was on a subway train, another in a park. One that caught his eye was a young redhead walking in front of a construction site in the evening, the workers still digging behind her.

He shuddered. Whatever sympathy Keith might have felt for Hasni evaporated in an instant.

“ _And now on to our next story. Sources are saying that a member of the Altean City police is wanted for questioning in the murder of Mayoral candidate Jacob Freer. As of right now, the name hasn’t been released and-“_

Keith switched off the television. He found a towel he hoped was clean and headed to the bathroom to dry off as best he could, stopping to look in the mirror. For a moment, he didn’t recognize the face staring back. Haunted and pale, with mud smeared across his chin and deep purple-black bruising spreading from the wound in his chest. This was the Broker.

Except the Broker always had a plan. The Broker was never surprised. The Broker knew who to trust, and who to play. The Broker was never caught.

Keith didn’t know who was staring back at him. It sure as hell wasn’t who he was supposed to be.

It had been a set up, and he’d never seen any of it coming. Not Shiro, not Ezor and Zethrid, not Lotor. He had no way of knowing how far back the deception went and couldn’t seem to make his thoughts slow down enough to piece them together.

He’d been so wrong, so fucking arrogant to think he was in control of anything or that he could protect himself from falling in love. Keith had been lying to himself just as much as the Broker lied to everyone else. He’d been ripped apart, his vulnerabilities flayed out for everyone to see. The worst part was that he didn’t care, all he wanted to do was go home and crawl back into Shiro’s arms and pretend everything was okay.

Heat pooled behind his eyes. It sent bitter tears prickling at the corner of his vision, and Keith pressed his palms against his sockets, trying to stave them off with gritted teeth. It wasn’t enough. He banged a fist against the cold tile of the wall, let its pain reverberate through his hand, because nothing had been enough. Not a damn thing.

But they’d fucked up, too.

He was still alive.

And he knew everything.

Keith slowly washed off the muck and blood, peeling back the layers until he was finally clean. He looked younger now. Betrayal stripped off all the bravado he’d built up over the years and left him as vulnerable as he’d been long before he’d joined the police force. Before he’d had a purpose, friends if you could call them that. Before Shiro had found him, angry and lashing out, and helped him channel that energy into something good. He’d really believed it had been all for something good, once upon a time.

Now he just felt tired and scared, and running out of options. He relieved the moment a thousand times in the space of a single breath. No one knew Hasni’s apartment and no one knew Keith was still alive, but he couldn’t stay here indefinitely.

He dressed in stolen clothes and kicked Hasni in the head one last time for good measure. That slimeball wasn’t going to go to the cops with as much dirt as he had on him, and Keith wasn’t ready to burn this option. He might come back, if he didn’t die first.

With his mouth set into a hard line, he searched the unconscious criminal for his phone and dialed the number by heart, not even listening for the person on the other end to say hello. 

The call clicked over to voicemail, even better.

“You fucking piece of shit.” Keith snarled into the phone, voice raspy and broken. “I know what you did, and I’m coming for you.”

The silence after he hung up seemed far too loud, but Keith bore it like a brand. It was the only moment of weakness he could allow.

The Broker had work to do.

 

* * *

 

“Five years, and this is still the shithole you run to.”

The voice came over his shoulder, and Shiro couldn’t fight back a smile. His shoulders sagged, a sudden burst of relief unwinding the tension he’d been carrying for too long now. Without turning around, he answered. “Five years, and you’re still here, too.”

He didn’t shift until Ezor was fully in his sight. She slipped into place beside him, blocking an old display that hadn’t been changed since the last time they’d been at the observatory together, years ago. Shiro was surprised the city hadn’t demolished it yet, to make room for a mall or something.

It had been a long time since he’d been able to talk to her like this. He missed it.

He didn’t ask if she’d been looking for him. She didn’t ask if he was waiting for her. They let the tinny sound of music over the speakers fill the silence, buying time until neither could afford it.

“You and Zethrid doing okay?”

Ezor just shrugged, leaning against the railing display, her eyes towards the ceiling. She used to like to make up constellations because she couldn’t remember any other than Orion’s Belt. Shiro never forgot that about her. “Yeah. We’re waiting for it all to blow over. Too hot for what we do right now.”

It was as close as she wanted to get to explaining that their reputations were being dragged through the dirt. It was as close as she wanted to get to talking about Keith. “Don’t you have a fancy car that shouldn’t be seen here now?”

“Took the train.” Shiro shrugged. Ezor snorted.

“You haven’t changed since you were a kid. Same shitty taste.”

Shiro didn’t bother to argue, but he flexed his prosthetic hand. There was a time when he could run here and escape, imaging himself exploring deep space among the stars. He would make up elaborate adventures in his own head, furiously writing them down in journals and keeping them safe where no one else could read. It had been the perfect target for an angry kid and Shiro had found two of them who took his journals and mocked every word before demanding he write more adventures, but include them as well.

After that, Ezor and Acxa decided they were his friends and never asked his opinion on the matter. Along the way they picked up two more. A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Shiro’s mouth at the memory. They’d been the same ever since, even though years and circumstances had pulled them apart. They looked out for each other. Or, they tried.

He flexed his hand again and Ezor reached out to take it, startling Shiro.

“Acxa is worried about you.”

“Acxa should be worried about herself, she’s closest to him.” Shiro said bitterly, but he still gave her hand a squeeze and tried to keep the anger from his voice.

“That’s not fair. You know she watches out for us.”  
  
No, it probably wasn’t fair, and Acxa probably tried. But they’d both gotten into the bad habit of overestimating and underestimating her influence over their boss to suit their own grievances.

“You know how he gets, he’s dangerous like this. Someone could get hurt.”

 _Again_. The word hung between them as Ezor held his hand, the older prosthetic slower and less sensitive to her touch after Lotor had ruined his other one. She looked scared, chewing her lip as she looked up at the little pinpricks of light.

“Things were supposed to get better. He was supposed to help.” She said softly.

“It’s the curse of being good at what you do. Too much attention.” Shiro murmured, mostly tease no matter how much truth was folded into it.  
  
“I’m not the one who got a fancy promotion.” Ezor had found another smile.   
  
There was too much blame to go around for them to be selfish. On bad days, the divisions grew sharper. Shiro decided this wasn’t a bad day. The day before might have been, but as he glanced at Ezor’s profile, illuminated by a display Shiro had read so often he’d memorized, he refused to let this one be a bad day as well.

Or he tried to.

His arm ached, and he wasn’t sure where the pain began.

“You know, what you did…” Ezor started. “It helps if you think of him as just another mark.”

She still wouldn’t meet his eye. Shiro tasted copper in the back of his throat. “Has it helped yet?”

“It will.” 

He watched her in his periphery, the way her shoulders straightened.

Neither one of them believed it, but that was an admission they couldn’t make. Keith wasn’t the only one who’d gotten too deep. 

“I liked him too-“

“Don’t.” Shiro cut her off too quickly, too much emotion welling in his chest in a mix of anger and guilt. Bright white fury bubbled up from between his ribs. He forced it back down with a smile and apologized, leaning gently against her to bump his elbow against Ezor’s arm. “Sorry. It’s just…I always thought it would be easier once he got what he wanted, you know? It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

Ezor leaned into his space, tugging unhappily at the end of her ponytail. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s going to work out, we just have to trust Lotor. He’s always been there to help us and it’s our turn to help him. It’s going to be okay.”

_It would be okay somehow._

Shiro scrubbed a hand over his face, told himself it was all he needed to put himself back together. “Are you going to the thing later?”

Ezor’s brow furrowed, a question half-poised on her lips, before it cleared. She shook her head. “It’s not my kind of scene,” she said. “Boss’s still trying to figure out where we fit. Not much use for girls who can’t keep a secret in our line of work.”

She said it like a joke, and Shiro didn’t notice anything off about her tone. He figured there should have been.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you company next time,” she added, nudging him with her shoulder. Shiro managed a smile before he checked the time on his phone. He didn’t want to say that he needed her now. They’d long lost track of all the times they weren’t there when they were needed the most.

“Til next time.”

He walked away, and she didn’t stop him.

 

* * *

 

The campaign rally was a wild affair from beginning to end. People lined up long before it was meant to begin, bearing flowers and flickering candles in broad daylight. Jacob Freer should have been a stain on the city’s history, but Lotor had weaponized his party’s grief and turned him into a martyr. Everyone loved a hero more when they were dead.

They were in the gymnasium of Freer’s elementary school, a shabby old building that hadn’t been much to look at when it was built, but an outpouring of support meant that by the next school year, kids would be able to use it without worrying the roof would cave in. It was already packed.

Lotor held the crowd enraptured with each honeyed word. He poured his passion into his speech, promising them something better. He shared a vision of a brighter future, a plan they could achieve together. When he spoke, the audience  _believed_  and it wasn’t just an act. Lotor believed in impossible change and everyone who heard him was willing to follow his head.

It had been one of the reasons Shiro had loved him.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a tension headache already starting. When they were younger, Shiro had been so ready to trust in anything. A kid down on his luck with dreams of something bigger he could never achieve on his own, and a group of girls, harder than they needed to be just to get by unscathed, they looked out for each other, but it was hard enough to just survive, let alone escape. 

Lotor had offered them all something more, a future where they didn’t have to be just broken pieces with sharpened edges. He helped the girls get into schools, spreading his wealth around like it was nothing. He celebrated when Shiro had gotten into the police academy and had been there to pick him up when losing his arm had shattered his entire life. Lotor held all of their hearts in his hands, playing with each when it suited his needs. It had never mattered as long as he stayed and they would have all followed him into hell for it.

But then his games became darker and the strings cut deep. Love turned to addiction. It didn’t matter to Lotor as long as Shiro’s loyalty never wavered.  For the longest time Shiro had tried to convince himself that it was Haggar, that Lotor’s mother had poisoned him, and if they could just follow through, it would all go back to the way it was. A better life, a better city, everything Shiro had ever wanted when he first joined the police. A way to keep everyone safe and make sure there were no more kids who grew up like he did. Lotor had promised.

Lotor stood in front of the crowd now and made that same promise again.

The worst part was that Shiro still believed him.

He walked away from the gymnasium, and out into the open air. He couldn’t go back into the school. There were too many people there. Lotor would want him back for the photo ops. He hadn’t said as much, but Shiro had been in this game long enough to know. It was why he was in an ironed shirt, and new slacks. A rousing flagrant show of support from the Altean PD was too heavy-handed, but if a reporter with a good eye caught them talking, that would get enough whispers going. Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose.

He walked the perimeter, trying to look like he wasn’t. It wasn’t even an old habit. It had been far too long since he was a beat cop for it to have stuck, and the cops by this side of town didn’t  _walk_ , but it helped when it felt like there were needles beneath his skin and his head was going to burst.

He got far enough to turn the corner around the gym before he noticed anything was off. Someone had pushed one of the dumpsters against the wall. Shiro took a step back, scanned the area. It was out of a direct line of sight from the main road and parking lot.

Something prickled at his instinct, a gut feeling that something was wrong. The dumpster was aligned to an open window high on the school’s second floor. It was just open a crack, not enough for anyone to slip through, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been closed behind someone. He hauled himself up on top of the dumpster to measure the distance, reaching up to the window sill and gave it an experimental push. It opened easily beneath his hand and Shiro’s mouth set in a hard frown. He jumped down from his perch and headed back inside. This needed to be called in.

A sudden deafening  _crack_  and a wail blared in his ear as flashing strobes from the fire alarm went wild. Shiro took off running. 

Lotor had to be the target. If there was an emergency, his personal body guards would move him through the back of the school to a waiting car, but there weren’t many who would move against Lotor, and only one that wouldn’t leave Shiro alone.

He barreled through the hallways, knocking some of the audience members aside in his haste. Attack in the chaos. This was all part of a playbook he knew well, he’d taught the lessons himself.

But if Keith was here, he’d know that reaching Lotor through the crowd would be too much of a gamble.

Shiro didn’t need to get to Lotor. He just needed to cut off his path.

He swerved through the empty school, his footsteps echoing down deserted halls, tracing Lotor’s route in his mind. Lotor wouldn’t make a quick retreat, wouldn’t risk looking like too much of a coward, and he’d lived through enough firefights to think himself invincible. How many guards had Lotor brought? If Narti was with them, that would tip the scales. If Acxa was there, too, it wouldn’t be a question, but it wasn’t a guarantee. They didn’t get screen time the way Lotor did, weren’t part of the image he wanted to portray, and this was supposed to be the easy part.

_There._

The locker rooms just outside the gym had multiple points of entry and exit. When Shiro tried the door, he wasn’t surprised to find it unlocked.

He was less surprised at the figure that hunched in the doorway at the opposite side of the locker room, poised on the balls of his feet as he listened for the sound of his fleeing quarry. Shiro’s heart squeezed, breath stolen for a moment as if he’d been punched in the gut. A thousand apologies and explanations threatened to choke him, but he couldn’t afford to speak. Words would be meaningless after his betrayal.

_I’m sorry anyways._

Shiro took off running. They collided with a thud, Shiro’s weight bringing them both down to the locker room floor. Shiro didn’t give him a moment to steady himself, trying to restrain him in case Keith had managed to find a weapon.

Keith fought and thrashed beneath him, muscles coiled like ropes and wily as a snake. A sharp blow to the head left Shiro’s ears ringing just long enough for Keith to leverage his weight against the tiles and flip them over. They scrambled as Keith brought his fist down over and over until Shiro’s mouth filled with blood. He spat crimson and aimed his blow at Keith’s wounded shoulder, winning a sharp grunt of pain as Keith pulled himself back, letting Shiro slip free.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Shiro warned, getting to his feet.

“You should have done your job better.” Keith spat venom like it could burn, his eyes bright with fury Shiro had never seen. No. Fury he’d never received. It was as if everything he knew of Keith had been carved open and replaced with white hot rage, and when he lunged at Shiro, Shiro barely had the time to dodge. He moved with Keith, following his momentum and slamming him into a wall of lockers to a cacophony of quaking metal.

“What’s the plan here Keith? What do you think you can do?” Shiro hissed as Keith bucked in his grip. “He’s untouchable. You’ll never get close enough to touch him. Walk away, Keith. This is your only chance.”

“I always knew you were a coward.”

A sharp jolt of pain shot through his leg, and Keith was pushing him back. Shiro couldn’t catch himself in time.

He hit the ground hard, but he’d done his job. The noise had diverted the bodyguards, and Shiro could hear their fading footsteps as they hurried away. Keith snarled as he realized he’d been played again, baring his teeth like a trapped beast. With a grimace of pain, Shiro kicked out and caught Keith’s knee, forcing a retreat as he rolled to his feet.

“The only thing left to do is run.” Shiro panted, taking a step closer as Keith backed away, eyes darting to the door behind Shiro’s back like he could still make it through to Lotor. “He’s gone, you were sloppy.”

“It’s what I get learning from you.” Another step back. Keith gathered himself, Shiro could see the conflict warring within him. Recklessness against caution. Keith had always had too much of one and the Broker had been too much the other. Both halves shouting with separate instincts to fight or to flee, even though defeat was bitter to swallow. Finally, self-preservation won out. If he couldn’t get to Lotor here, better to retreat and try again.

“Go on, Keith. Before they find you.”

“This isn’t over.” The promise settled like ice in Shiro’s stomach as Keith bolted out the door and disappeared.

Shiro watched the place he had been for a long time, wishing that it was.

Someone was screaming outside. The alarms still blared. After a moment, Shiro left, too. If Lotor had questions, he knew where to find him.

No one stopped him on the way home. The rally was all over the news before Shiro got halfway there. He could see how this would play out, see how Lotor would turn himself into a hero, and the lines between Freer’s legend and his own would blur, but it wasn’t a competition. There was only one way this could end, and the only question was how long Lotor would wait before he went after Haggar.

Shiro dragged himself to his apartment, but the moment he locked the door behind him, something in his chest unwound. It was hollow relief.

The keys clattered in the bowl by the door. His headache was back, working its way up from the too-tense muscles in the back of his neck. His arm throbbed in rhythm, the older prosthetic pressing painfully on already screaming nerves. The agony left Shiro sick. Or maybe that was just the guilt sitting heavily in his stomach. A fist full of pills could dull the pain away until he didn’t have to feel, or think, of anything at all.

Cold metal pressed against his neck as the shadows breathed. Fear shot through him, paralyzing for just long enough as his hand twitched to the gun in his holster. But a fragile smile built on broken glass cut across his face, and Shiro closed his eyes. 

“One of these days, I’m not going to be able to stop myself if you keep doing this.” Shiro whispered.

Death had finally caught up to him.


	8. Chapter 8

_Cold metal pressed against his neck as the shadows breathed. Fear shot through him, paralyzing for just long enough as his hand twitched to the gun in his holster. But a fragile smile built on broken glass cut across his face, and Shiro closed his eyes._

 _“One of these days, I’m not going to be able to stop myself if you keep doing this.”_

In the silence that followed, Shiro could have heard a pin drop. Shiro kicked at the shoe rack, sending it flying behind him and down the hall just as his little key holder exploded in a spray of ceramic. Somewhere Keith had gotten a hold of a silencer, but Shiro was less concerned about that and more concerned about what it was attached to.

He turned just in time to see Keith righting his position, the shoe rack in pieces by his feet. The moment between taking aim and firing was so fluid, Shiro never dreamed of catching him. He just threw himself into the door on his right, landing on bathroom tiles with a painful grunt.

Were Shiro’s neighbors deaf or not at home? If Shiro was  _lucky_  they’d send the fire department.

Keith was on him in a second. Shiro kicked the door shut just as his figure blurred into sight, and less than a heartbeat later, there was a bullet hole in the center of the wood. Shiro braced himself again the door, reflex overrunning thought. Something smacked against the door with a heavy thud, and Shiro let it open just to slam it shut before Keith could enter, pining his wrist against the frame and making him snarl.

A swift jab to Keith’s wrist set the gun arcing from his hand with a hiss of pain as Shiro turned after it. Keith dove with him, faster and single-minded, and Shiro changed tactics at the last instant. Keith went for the gun. Shiro went for Keith.

They tussled, grappling without form or precision in a too small bathroom before Keith landed a heavy elbow to his gut. It drove the air from Shiro’s lungs as he gasped, grip loosening just enough for Keith scramble away, missing the counter by a hair’s breadth. 

_Not like this! It couldn’t happen like this!_

Shiro twisted to his knees, yanking Keith back before he could reach the gun. His heart beat deafeningly in his ears, filling the silence broken only by ragged breaths and grunts of pain.

He rolled Keith beneath him and brought his fist down, rewarded with a spray of blood across his face as Keith’s lip split. The other man just gave him a bloody smile, all red-stained teeth and spite.

He didn’t see Keith reach behind him until he heard the sound of scraping metal. Shiro turned his head, barely daring to glance back to see his shower curtain come loose. Then Keith punched him in the throat. Shiro reared back, and Keith was on him, slamming his head into cold tile again and again, and darkness crept into his vision, black dots shot through with cuts of blinding light. He reached out desperately, punching into Keith’s core. It wasn’t enough to stop him, but it was enough for Shiro to get free, to sway to his feet. The gun was an ink stain on the off-white floor. Too far away to reach.

But there was one in his side holster. One that would make all the difference.

A quick strike to the side of Keith’s head left the other man reeling and Shiro took the advantage, dragging him down. They knocked into the sink, sending things scattering to the bathroom floor as they wrestled for control. Keith’s hand closed around a fallen glass before Shiro could pull his weapon, smashing it against the tile and bringing the sharp point towards Shiro’s neck.

Shiro grabbed his wrist as Keith gripped the shard so tightly blood began to drip from his palm. “Too reckless.” He snarled as Keith spat blood at him instead of answering. He tried to reach for the gun at his hip again, but Keith caught the movement and Shiro almost cursed at how well he’d trained his protege. With a shout, Keith rolled them sideways and tried to lash out with his improvised blade, but Shiro smashed his hand against the floor until it dropped.

Keith’s head slammed into his skull before Shiro could gain his bearings. He brought an elbow up, knocking Shiro across the jaw and rolling himself to his feet as Shiro raced after him, with shadows in his eyes and copper on his tongue, but Keith was already going for his gun. He shoved Keith passed it and out of the way, pushing him through the doorway and kicking wildly until the pistol spun back into the bathroom. Then Shiro turned straight into Keith’s fist.

There were stars in his eyes as he threw himself at Keith, stumbling over his own feet as they grappled in the corridor. Shiro got an arm around Keith’s throat, braced him in a choke hold.

“Enough!”

Keith wasn’t listening. Keith never listened. There was a table lamp just out of reach. Keith made a grab for it, and Shiro yanked him backwards, Keith’s feet just dragging off the ground, and Shiro’s back hit the wall, still trying to maintain his grip.

“Dammit, Keith, stop. Stop! I don’t want to-”

“Kill me?” He laughed, but it sounded more like a snarl. Keith’s foot dug into his instep just as his elbow found Shiro’s gut, knocking the wind out of him. Shiro’s grip faltered, only for a moment, but a moment was all Keith needed. He turned, grabbing the gun out of Shiro’s holster, adrenaline burning through his veins.

Keith took one step back, then another. Shiro was still fighting for breath when he fired.

 

* * *

 

It took a lifetime to open his eyes again. Swollen and sticky, they didn’t want to move. Everything hurt, every breath rattled the broken ribs in his chest and dead nerves in his arm screamed. Even his ears rang, the shot echoing round and round his skull until he felt like he was going mad. Better to keep his eyes closed and hope that it would end.

That had been the plan all along, hadn’t it?

A sharp nudge caught him in one of his bruises, startling a gasp from him and giving him away. Shiro forced his eyes open and blinked into the too-bright light before everything swam into focus and the memories finally settled back into their jagged pieces. Keith looked down at him with a frown.

“Don’t try to move.”

Of course Shiro couldn’t listen. He tried to sit up, but chains rattled as he found himself bound with his own handcuffs, his wrists up and over his head leaving him vulnerable and exposed. Rage and broken pride filtered through the bruises in his heart as he bared his teeth, every bit as reckless and angry as he’d chided Keith for being. He yanked on the cuffs with enough force that the headboard cracked and Keith startled backwards, but the bonds held.

“Just fucking  _end_  it, Keith. I apparently didn’t teach you enough if you can’t even follow through once you start something.”

There was hurt in Keith’s eyes, betrayal. The pain clouded the rage and Shiro had to look away or he’d break. He expected the hatred and welcomed it, it was nothing less than he deserved. But Keith spoke in a voice so soft that it undid him.

“This isn’t your gun.”

Shiro’s mouth thinned. Despite the wave of nausea it caused, his heart beat frantically against his ribs. He raised his head, rallying behind all the defiance he could muster.   
  
Keith tired of waiting first. Some things never changed.   
  
“Who does this belong to?”   
  
“I’m not the one who’s sloppy with evidence.”  
  
Keith froze, his eyes narrowed into slits, and Shiro wondered how much further he would have to push, how much would finally be too much. Then Keith grit his teeth and asked, “Who are you trying to set up this time?”  
  
Shiro flinched.  
  
“How many of us were there?” Keith asked, dangerously soft. “Who else was stupid enough to trust you?”

“You really want an answer? You were  _easy_ , Keith. You wanted validation so desperately, you couldn’t even see you were being used.” Shiro spat poison and watched each barb find its mark deep in the tenderest parts of Keith’s heart. “I played you from the beginning and you were too stupid, too eager to even know.”

“Shut up.” Keith’s voice was ragged now, a hint of that old rage as Shiro stoked the flames.

“The Broker, what a joke. You were so arrogant, you couldn’t even see what was right in front of your face. Me, the girls, your whole operation! You thought you were the smartest thing in town and in reality, you were just another idiot being used.”

“I said shut up!” Keith snarled and Shiro steadied himself for the blow that never came. Shaky hands slammed the gun down on the table beside the bed and instead of rage, there was only anguish. “I’m not going to fucking kill you, no matter how hard you ask for it. So just… just… stop.”

And Shiro stopped. 

Because Keith asked.

Shiro couldn’t help himself.

Keith turned away from him, running a shaking hand through his hair. This was the first time Shiro had gotten a good look at him since- since that night. He was worryingly pale, his hair limp and tangled, and eyes fever bright. On his chest, there was a splatter of stains that looked too fresh. Shiro swallowed down his voice before he could give too much away.

“For once in your life, Keith, just walk away.” If it was Keith, if there was even a single chance that he would listen, Shiro wasn’t afraid to beg. “They’ll find you. They’ll send someone good enough to make it stick this time.”

“The only thing you have in your fridge is milk that expired two weeks ago and ketchup from 2016.” For a moment, it looked like Keith was smiling. “No one’s going to come here, looking for me or not.”

Shiro couldn’t remember the last time he’d had Keith over. It must have been years. Out of everything that had happened, he didn’t expect that to hit the hardest. All too soon, Keith was moving away, and a trill of panic rose in Shiro’s chest as he moved out of his line of sight. Keith just took a seat on a nearby chair, falling into it too heavily.

“Would it matter if I asked you why?” Keith whispered. “Would it change anything?”

“There’s not an answer that you’d want to hear.”

“I don’t care about if I want to hear it, I just want the truth. For once, I just want to know what’s real. Did you-, were we ever-” Keith’s voice broke and he turned away, body hunched as he struggled to control his ragged breathing. Shiro could hear the sob in his voice that Keith desperately tried to hide, but there was no controlling it now. He watched as Keith sifted through the broken pieces of his life and looked for something, anything to hold on to.

“I promised I wasn’t going to let anyone use me ever again.” Keith said quietly, voice muffled. “I was going to be too strong and too smart for anyone to hurt. I actually believed I was, you know? So stupid. You, the girls, Lotor… Jesus fuck, he’d been using me this entire time and I just let him. I thought I knew what I was doing every step of the way and I don’t know anything anymore.”

Shiro swallowed an apology, what good what it do now? He couldn’t offer Keith anything other than heartbreak. There was only way out of this situation for either of them and it ended at the barrel of the gun on the nightstand. Anything else and Keith would never be free. He shifted like he could reach out to Keith, handcuffs rattling against the headboard as Keith finally turned to look at him, vulnerable and in so much pain that it made Shiro’s breath catch.

“What do I do, Shiro?”

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Keith looked away first.

Then he got up and put a set of keys on the bed, just within Shiro’s range of motion. It would be difficult but not impossible to get out. Shiro had been in worse straights. That was not what he was afraid of.

“Keith, where are you going?” He blurted out, the cuffs rattling against his headboard and digging into his wrist as he moved. Keith didn’t stop until he was at the door, his arms limp by his side. Shiro was almost glad he couldn’t see his face.

“I don’t know yet. I don’t know a lot of things.” He said, too drained to be anything but honest. “But I know that I’m not going to kill you. I wish I told you I loved you when it would’ve mattered.”  

Shiro tensed. Maybe heartbreak was what they needed.

When he spoke, Shiro barely heard himself. “Take the gun, and fire. I’ve got enough dirt on Lotor to make it look like motive, if the right people get it.” He smiled. It didn’t fit right on his face, and only hurt worse when Keith flinched.

“I can’t-”

“How many times have I told you that you should never say that? This is the only way out for you, Keith. I made sure Lotor’s gun is in the system, they’ll be able to find a match from the bullets. There’s files on my computer that will implicate him and show he set you up. It’s a get out of jail free card, it’s the best offer you’re going to get.” It was all set, all the loose ends tied up neatly with lies that the police wouldn’t be able to unravel. Shiro had made sure of that. Even with the Galra’s deep influence, it would be too much evidence to ignore and Keith would go free. He’d have to.

“I can’t.”

“Keith.”

“I  _won’t_.” There was the rage, flickering along the edges of the hurt. Stubborn as always and nothing was going to move him. Shiro let out a long breath into a weak chuckle. The Broker would have taken the shot, but that mask lay shattered between them. This was Keith, brazen and defensive. He’d always been too fast, too damned good. He bristled with spines, so sure he was closed off from hurt but loyal to a fault to anyone who was willing to stay.

This was the man Shiro had loved. Through bad decisions and betrayal and that sick guilt he’d forced down his throat every time Shiro opened his mouth to lie, that was a truth neither of them had ever been ready for.

“Because you love me?” Shiro asked.

Keith’s eyes slid to the side, admitting without admitting. No, that’s what he’d done before and it wasn’t good enough now. “I love who I thought you were. I’m not sure I know who that is anymore.”

“Neither do I.” 

“But you’re willing to die so I get my life back, even if it puts your boss away for good.”

Shiro closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Because you love me?” 

Silence settled between them, brittle and unforgiving, and Shiro couldn’t meet Keith’s stare.

“Has that ever been enough?”

It took too long for Keith to move, and as he approached, Shiro’s breath caught in his chest. Keith undid his handcuffs and caught them as they fell, but Shiro remained tense for a moment longer, not quite sure where to put his hands. Keith just moved towards the far side of the room. On his dresser, Shiro recognized his first aid kit, old and half-empty, last replenished only god knew when, and one of Shiro’s office shirts had been sliced into ribbons. Keith came back with a roll of gauze and a bottle of water, his features drawn and tired and started undoing Shiro’s shirt, to wipe the blood off his chest.

“Tell me everything you know about their operation.” Keith murmured softly. “Maybe this time it will be.”

“There’s nothing we can do to stop them now. Lotor got what he wanted, he’s been planning this for too long.” Shiro said, holding completely still as Keith slowly pulled the shirt from his shoulders and dabbed at the wounds. 

“Which is why you tried to keep me away from him and the Galra.”

Shiro vision darkened as Keith pressed clean gauze down into the wound to stop the sluggish bleeding. It took him a moment to find his voice. “It should have been the reason.” He should have been protecting Lotor, maybe that’s how all of this had started, but somewhere along the line it had changed. “He was dangerous. If you got mixed up with him, he would have wanted to use you. I tried to keep you away from him as long as I could.”

Keith’s hands paused but he didn’t meet Shiro’s eyes, testing the truth like he was feeling along the edges of a bruise. “You were trying to protect me?”

“It doesn’t matter, I fucked it up.”

“It was a pellet gun you shot me with, wasn’t it?” The next question was quiet, but Keith resumed his work with steady hands looking far calmer than Shiro felt.

“They were watching.” It was an answer though it felt like an excuse and an inadequate one at best. It didn’t matter why he’d done it, Shiro had hurt Keith and would never forgive himself for it. For all the stupid, dangerous decisions and fucked up messes along the way, that was the one thing that had made the lies bearable. He was protecting Keith, he would keep him safe no matter what, make sure he never was pulled down into the same chains that Shiro had tied around his own neck. He’d failed.

“Did you kill Freer and the others?”

“No.” This time the answer came with more force and Keith finally met his eyes, looking for the truth and almost afraid of what he would find. “I didn’t kill anyone, Keith. I’ve never killed anyone, not for Lotor or while I was on the force. I’m a fucked up addict who was loyal for too long to someone I didn’t want to admit had turned into the very kind of monster I promised myself I’d take off the streets, but I never killed anyone.”

It felt like too much, and it didn’t feel like enough. The silence between them stretched on for eternity, but Shiro’s heart had jumped to his throat, and any attempt he could have used to make amends felt hollow and ruined.

“Well.” Keith said. “That’s something.”

He fastened the last of Shiro’s bandages into place, and sat back. In the darkness of the room, Shiro pretended that when Keith smiled, it was the same one he’d always known.


	9. Chapter 9

In his dreams, Shiro was always running. He didn’t know from what or from who. Flashes of familiar places turned to nightmare fodder when they were made empty and forced silent. The weight of anticipation beat down on him, each passing second a physical lash. He tore through the bullpen at the department, the smell of stale coffee lingering in the back of his mouth, through the abandoned streets of the worst neighborhoods downtown, and down dirty alleys. And the lush interior of Empire. It didn’t matter how fast he ran, how far he got. He was always too slow. The bullet came first, through the spaces in his ribs before the pain to his right left him blinded. Then the entire world turned.

Shiro woke with a start, struggling to breathe, his shirt soaked through with cold sweat. Ragged gasps were too loud in the inky blackness of his room. It felt like his every muscle was tensed and coiled, and memory let phantom aches grow fangs. He reached out blindly, knocked his phone off the bedside table with a thud, and suddenly there was too much light. Keith stood in the doorway.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

The worry in Keith’s voice sounded genuine and Shiro rubbed his hands over his face, fighting back the bile at the back of his throat. “Just a dream. It’s nothing, go back to sleep.” He said roughly. The prosthetic hand twitched, tremors from his nerves sending false messages along the electronics and he flexed the fingers, trying to get the older model to behave.

Pain was constant now, but welcome. Owed. It was the price of his treachery and Shiro welcomed it as if it had any power to absolve him of his guilt. He sighed and dropped his hands, surprised to see Keith still hovering by the door.

“I’d have said you were a shit liar, if you didn’t prove me so wrong about it recently.” Keith crossed the few steps to the bed, hesitating just a heartbeat before reaching for Shiro’s arm. The feather-light touch of his fingers barely registered on the older model prosthetic, but the hand spasmed again. “How long has it been since you’ve taken any?”

Pride clenched Shiro’s jaw, but there wasn’t any left that he deserved. It was too abrupt, too out in the open to talk about his weaknesses like this. The Broker had always loved vulnerabilities. But this wasn’t the Broker, Shiro could tell just by looking at the way Keith traced his fingers across the mechanics of his arm. He was tired, scared. More like the young man he’d first been assigned to when Keith was too desperate to prove himself and too impatient for help. He’d covered that all as soon as he learned how, tucking his heart away in the process where even Shiro couldn’t reach it.

God, all he wanted to do was pull Keith down into the bed with him and go back to that place.

Honesty finally forced its way through, as if it could make up for all the lies that had come before. “I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want anything from them anymore. I’ll be fine.”

Shiro was tired of owing them. Under his blankets, his hands were shaking, and he couldn’t get them to stop.

Keith walked away and came back with a glass of water that Shiro couldn’t take. He thanked Keith anyway. He expected Keith to leave, but every second he stayed felt like a mercy.

Shiro thought Keith would finally give up about the same time his eyes started feeling heavy. His heart still beat too loudly in his chest, like he’d run a marathon, and all he wanted to think about was the frantic racing of his pulse. Neither of them had made a sound, until Keith whispered, “That’s why you worked with them?”

It almost felt like an accusation. Shiro wished it was harsher.

“It started before that.” Shiro murmured at length. “We knew Lotor from- before. Me, Acxa, and Ezor we used to run together. Made a name for ourselves. Lotor thought we’d be useful.” Shiro didn’t mention the Broker. He didn’t need to. “The things he promised… He promised a lot. We believed him. But after the accident, that was when Haggar got involved, too.”

Keith didn’t interrupt and didn’t close the distance between them to offer any reassurance, but he didn’t pull away either. He let Shiro spin out his story before he judged, but careful to look for any hint of a lie.

Shiro was tired of lying, the truth was easier.

“I wanted to help people, Lotor had a plan to make that possible. We all believed him, I guess we wanted to believe in something. Then after the accident, he started-” Shiro swallowed hard, ashamed of his own weakness. “I was in a bad place. I wasn’t sure I’d work again, I was reassigned. It hurt all the time. Lotor said it was just something to help and I should have seen it coming.”

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, leaving dark strands sticking up in every direction. “I don’t know if he changed somewhere along the way or if this was the plan from the beginning and I was just too stupid to know. By the time I realized, I couldn’t get out.” Shiro looked up at Keith, willing the other man to believe. “I tried to keep you away from him to protect him. I’m sorry.”

Keith’s lips pressed tight into an unhappy line, but he moved closer to help Shiro unhook the twitching prosthetic. “He played me too. I get it.”

Shiro tried to laugh. It came out as a quiet huff of air. It left him feeling hollow. “The difference between you and me is that I stayed even after I knew he was bad.”

He stilled, breath caught in his throat as Keith’s fingers unfastened plastic and metal. This model was unfamiliar to them both, but Keith had worked his way around enough of them that he still managed to work it free. The absence of weight was immediate, far too quick for relief to catch up. Everything folded in on itself as he exhaled, sinking back into the mattress with his eyes falling shut. His frantic pulse hadn’t soothed, but for the first time since he woke, Shiro thought it would.

Keith put the arm away, far too familiar in Shiro’s space. It had been years since they did this. Part of it must have been the detective in him, but even the Broker had held shades of that. It was shamefully good to see Keith back in Shiro’s space.

“Was he the reason you stayed?” Keith whispered, the question lost with the solid snap of a drawer.

Shiro’s brows furrowed. Keith wouldn’t meet his eyes directly.

“When things were- when _I_  was an asshole, was the job the reason you stayed with me.”

The job. And Lotor. That was what Keith was asking.

“Keith, come’ere.”

Keith didn’t move, unsure if he even could. “After the way I treated you, I can’t imagine there’s any other reason. I was just as cruel and vicious as he was, I used you too, Shiro. I liked the way I could jerk you around by your emotions it made me feel-, i-it…” Keith tried to swallow the words but the confession couldn’t be stopped. “I liked feeling in control. It was like nothing could hurt me.”

“Hey-”

“Don’t. Don’t say something encouraging or forgiving, I know what I did. I hurt you because I could, so whatever you’re going to say, just don’t.”

“I didn’t stay because of him.” Shiro reached out with his one hand, tracing a light finger down Keith’s jawline even as the other man flinched away. “I wanted to be here.”

“How can you possibly say that after the shit I put you through?”

“Because you’re not the Broker.”

“You don’t know that, Shiro! It’s been so long that I don’t know what I am anymore, I don’t know what  _you_  are. It all fell apart and I just, I don’t know anything. I don’t know what this makes me.” Keith bit back, but he didn’t fight as Shiro pulled him down, soothing his rage and his guilt. It was hard to resist when Keith knew how well they fit together and how many nights they’d laid together like this, pretending that they could keep it forever.

“I didn’t stay because of him, I stayed because of you. You were the one thing that made all this shit actually seem worth it. The things you did hurt and it wasn’t okay, and there were times I almost walked away. But I stayed because  _I_ chose to. I don’t know what that makes me either now, and I not sure either one of us deserves to be forgiven, but when I’m with you, it makes me happy more often than not. And I like the way we were without the lies.”

Keith leaned in so close that Shiro could feel the warmth of his breath against his skin. “Can we pretend to be those people again? Just for tonight?”

“No.” The answer was firm and unhesitating. “No more pretending. I want something real, Keith.” He leaned in and sealed the offer with a kiss.

He’d never felt Keith hesitate like this, but uncertainty lingered between them, a reluctance that was so rare it seemed unnatural. Keith didn’t know where to put his hands, almost afraid to touch Shiro. It was sweet, but it was not at all what Shiro wanted. He coaxed him in deeper, his grip tight around Keith’s waist, dragging his teeth across his lower lip and licking his way into his mouth. Old habits held true. History wasn’t a burden, but a blessing. They hadn’t always been honest, but they hadn’t always been lying, either.

Keith moaned into the kiss, a soft, broken thing and Shiro’s hand stroked up the curve of his back, making him chase its touch, pushing him that much closer. Keith rolled Shiro into the mattress, cupping his face and straddling his hips. When they pulled away, he was breathing hard, his mouth pretty and pinked and eyes impossibly round. His hair fell around his face like a halo. Shiro wasn’t sure he believed in anything divine, but he believed in this.

“Is this okay?” Keith whispered. “I don’t want it to hurt anymore.” His touch skittered down the length of Shiro’s neck, one hand settling just beneath his pulse. Shiro wished that Keith was the only reason it was racing.

“No more hurting.” Shiro wasn’t sure if it was a plea or a promise, but for once he wanted to drown out the pain with something good. He surged up, capturing Keith’s lips in a long, drawn out kiss. Harder now, almost demanding. “It’s okay.” He said, words whispered against Keith’s skin. “I want this.”

Keith pressed him back down into the pillows and he let himself fall, too slow and too careful, but unsure how hard he could push. They’d done this a hundred times, but now his hands were shaking and his nerves jangled, fumbling like it was their first time. Each button was a puzzle he couldn’t seem to figure out as he worked himself down inch by inch. When Shiro’s hand closed over his own, he stopped and took a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry.”

What he didn’t expect was laughter. Dark eyes snapped up to Shiro’s face, still lined with an old familiar pain with dark smudges beneath his eyes, but he laughed like he did when it was just the two of them wrestling over couch space or fighting for the last of the egg rolls. Shiro tipped his head back as his whole body shook and Keith found himself swept up in it, fragile smile turning into a soft, chuckle.

“Just love me, Keith. That’s all I want.”

Keith’s grip tightened before he could stop himself, his chest constricting like metal bands had wound around his ribs. “I always did.” He whispered. “This time it’s- it’s gonna count for something.”

He kissed Shiro and tasted the shape of that smile. Keith swore he could make it into something sweeter. With unsteady hands, he peeled Shiro out of the old, soft shirt he wore to sleep and let his hands run down the length of his chest. He visited the scars he’d studied a thousand times before, guided by nothing but touch and memory, his fingertips skimming over places old wounds had made sensitive. He’d never asked about the accident. He’d thought Shiro’s past had meant nothing in the face of his present. He knew it still haunted Shiro, still hurt him. He knew Shiro liked to pretend it didn’t. Keith wondered why he hadn’t paid more attention, why he hadn’t cared to dig deeper.

“Hey.” Shiro murmured, leaning up until their noses bumped, the ghost of a kiss whispering against Keith’s mouth. “You’re thinking too hard.”

Keith huffed loudly. “I haven’t been thinking enough lately.”

Shiro tugged on the hem of Keith’s shirt, the outline of his smile reflected in the dim light. “Just get this off.”

An easy request, one he scrambled to fulfill. He shucked his shirt up over his head leaving his hair sticking up in every directly and earning another low chuckle from Shiro. Gentle fingers smoothed down the wild strands, lingering just a little too long before sliding down to trace across his skin. Keith shivered, feeling a blush start in his ears as even his chest turned pink from the heat.

He’d always been beautiful, Shiro had thought that from the first moment they’d met. There was so much power hidden in his slim frame, and all earned through hard work. He dropped his hand to the cut of Keith’s hip, enjoying the hard muscles that flexed beneath it.

“What are you doing?” Keith sounded unsure now that his cockiness had been stripped away.

“Enjoying the view.”

Keith snorted, but lifted his hips so he could unbutton his pants and enjoy the way Shiro’s eyes darkened as he watched.

He pulled them down until he could kick them off, with half a mind to tease, but the promise of having Shiro beneath him properly was making him tremble with anticipation. He huffed, tugging wildly until Shiro’s pajamas slipped passed his hips, and Shiro hissed against him, tensing so sharply Keith had to look up.

Shiro’s head was turned into the pillow, his mouth parted in an almost sigh. A thousand memories of a thousand different times superimposed on that moment, happier times, better times. It was almost painful to look at him, to remember everything they had been when they’d both thought it was easier. His hands settled on Shiro’s thighs, and he exhaled deeply. Just as he turned, Keith leaned forward to kiss him on the mouth to silence him, and then once more because he could.

“Let me,” he whispered, running his hands across the sharp lines of Shiro’s legs, spreading them open until he could make a space for himself between them. He pressed another kiss to Shiro’s lips, then his cheek and jaw, slowly working his way down the hollow of his throat. He could feel his pulse, warm and vibrant against his lips, a more generous reminder than Keith deserved, and he rasped out his thanks, chasing it across the sharp lines of Shiro’s clavicles. Shadows carved lines across his chest, and Keith explored the places they were thickest, kissing and tasting a path down his sternum and across his ribs.

“Keith.”

Anything Shiro wanted to say was silenced by the way Keith’s fingers curled around his cock, cupping him through the fabric until he groaned.

His hips bucked of their own accord, chasing the too-gentle pressure and demanding more. His knees widened to give Keith more room. Shiro lifted up to help as Keith stripped off his boxer briefs before wrapping his hand around bare skin with a squeeze. It started another groan from him, a deep rumble low in his chest as Shiro closed his eyes. As much as he wanted to watch, and he always did love to watch Keith needy and debauched, it was so easy to lose himself in the feeling.

Deft hands worked in sure strokes, knowing exactly how to unravel him. His body hardened in response beneath Keith’s weight, his partner’s breath ghosting over his thighs as they trembled with the effort of keeping still. When Keith circled his thumb around the head of his cock, Shiro’s hand twisted in the sheets like he could hold on.

“I love you.” The words were a promise, an echo of a dream. Something Shiro had wanted so badly to hear out loud. He squeezed his eyes shut even harder, afraid that if he opened them, that none of this might be true anymore. “Shiro, look at me.” Keith’s voice was insistent and he could never resist, blinking his eyes open to meet Keith’s impossibly violet gaze. “If we’re going to be real, then I’ll tell you every day. Twice, to make up for all the times I didn’t.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No I don’t, but I want to.” Sweet words belayed the wicked smile as he bowed his head, black hair fanning across Shiro’s thighs as he caught a bead of salty-slick precum with the tip of his tongue.

A pang of hunger, as sharp and as devastating as the bullet that had pierced his chest, and Keith was breathing hard by the time his lips closed around the head of Shiro’s cock. Pretty thing. It wasn’t fair how much he wanted him, how desperate he was to have him, not when their sins still spread between them, a field of thorns and brambles that Keith would throw himself across if it meant hearing that breathy way Shiro gasped when he touched the back of Keith’s throat.

He wanted every inch of him, every second of his time. He wanted every heartbeat, every second as Shiro danced for him, twisting in his sheets like this was their first time. Keith swore he would have it all, even if this was his last chance, even if no one else ever knew. Keith’s tongue laved across his skin, velvet smooth and furnace hot, painting a stripe down the length of his shaft as his lips framed it efforts. From tip to root, and lower still, over Shiro’s tense, tight balls, licking between the creases of his skin to make good of his private oath.

The sheets beneath them shifted, Shiro’s grip jerking them free. He still wouldn’t look at Keith, not directly, so Keith watched him. The muscles in his arm coiled with the effort of keeping stable, the way his chest heaved, mouth parted and tempting with each gulp of air. Keith worked his way back up, giving gratitude and praise with his lips and tongue even if he couldn’t use his words. He squeezed the base of Shiro’s cock, watched him groan for it, and as his back bowed off the mattress, heels digging into the bed, Keith swallowed him down.

It had always been so easy to take Shiro apart. He used to revel in the feeling of power it gave him to strip away the authority and the façade of leadership to bring Shiro to his knees with just a touch. Keith savored it now, marveled at it. Even after everything, Shiro offered it all to Keith and let him demand more. Shiro’s thighs tensed as Keith slowly pulled off his cock with a wet  _pop_! He didn’t skip a beat, going down again to draw Shiro past the tight ring of his lips and sucking hard enough to make his partner hiss. All that self-control kept Shiro from thrashing, but Keith didn’t want control anymore. Not tonight.

He licked down Shiro’s length and paused just long enough to bite down on the meat of his thigh before soothing away the red mark with gentle kisses. Shiro’s knees shook as he widened them farther still, Keith’s head bobbing between them. His hips jerked in short, abortive thrusts as he fucked into Keith’s mouth and whispered a garbled curse as Keith swallowed, throat closing around him.

Keith came up for air with a gasp, eyes glassy and a thin line of drool still glistening from his lips to Shiro’s cock. “Are you okay?” He asked, needing to make sure now that so much had changed.

“Y-yes.” Shiro’s reply was muffled, arm flung over his face. “God,  _yes_.”

Keith pushed away insistently, like he blamed it for blocking something so gorgeous, and he kissed Shiro deeply, treating his tongue with the same courtesy he gave his cock, greedy, wet noises spilling between him. Shiro’s hand was heavy across his back, blunt nails digging into the dip of his spine as Keith ground into him again and again.

He reached between them to curl his fingers around Shiro’s cock, stroking it until wet dots splattered across their bellies. “God, why’re you so handsome,” Keith hissed against his mouth, his teeth sharp along the swell of Shiro’s lower lip. He tugged it hard and licked his way open. “I can’t leave you when you look so good.”

Shiro laughed, but he could barely make a sound when Keith was stealing it straight from his tongue. “That’s not what I-”

“Shush,” Keith grumbled, and his fingers moved lower, over the heavy curve of Shiro’s balls. Shiro couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or groan. Keith barely had the sense to stop for the little bottle by Shiro’s bed, half empty already and Keith couldn’t stop thinking about how Shiro had spent it.

“I want to fuck you.” He whispered, feeding the filthy ask through Shiro’s lips. He swallowed the breathless  _yes_ , squirting a generous amount of lube across his fingers and dropping the bottle somewhere under the bed. At the first touch, Shiro’s back arched, Keith’s cold slick fingers caressing him intimately.

“Please,” was all he could say as Keith worked him open, slowly fucking the too-tight muscle with his fingers.

“You have to relax. Breathe, Shiro.” Keith ordered as Shiro shuddered beneath him, trying to comply. One finger became two, the slow drag finding a rhythm as Shiro unclenched, carefully pushing back to drive the feeling deeper.

Shiro shouldn’t have had to ask. Keith felt like he’d been denying him for too long, denying all the things Shiro wanted and all the things they would have been better for. He didn’t have a good way of making up for it yet, and at the same time, wasn’t sure how deep of a debt he wanted to hold Shiro to, but this felt like a good place to start. Shiro threw his head back and groaned, and Keith kissed the edge of his jaw, called it payment for both of them. He pulled out and Shiro was panting. Keith slicked up his cock, and joined him.

“Keith,“ Shiro hissed, with something sweeter than impatience, but when his eyes flashed like that it felt like so much more.

“Do you want me to beg?” Keith groaned, surging forward to kiss his lover hard, before either of them could agree. He kept kissing him as he pushed in, felt Shiro gasp against his tongue as the head of his cock slipping through his rim, felt him gasp again when Keith was settled all the way in.

“Fuck,” Shiro whispered, clenching. “Wait,” Keith begged at the same time, wait or he’d fall apart. His balls pressed against the curve of Shiro’s ass, and when he ground in, Shiro’s arm tightened around his shoulders.

Keith tried for slow, he reached for that control to try and steady himself when everything was hurtling towards the brink, but control had always been Shiro’s thing. He dropped his head, sweat dropping from the ends of his hair and each breath coming in little hot pants as he snapped his hips forward. Shiro moaned, spurring him on and Keith was only too happy to oblige. When Shiro’s body clenched around him, warmth spattering across his skin in thick spurts, he came undone. His whole body shuddered, spent inside of Shiro as white burst behind his closed eyes.

“You know.” Shiro whispered, panting again. “At least the sex is still pretty good.”

“You’re such a jerk!” Keith squawked, pulling back and flopping aggressively on the bed. He couldn’t help but laugh and it felt so good, warm in the afterglow and too tired to deal with the shadows that tried to close in around them. Shiro joined in, the whole bed shaking as they howled, toweling each other clean before cuddling closer.

It reminded Shiro of all the times it could be good. For a while, it would be.

“If you go, I won’t blame you,” Shiro whispered against Keith’s shoulder, one arm belting his middle. His thumb dragged the shape of a smile across Keith’s bare hip. All it would take was one wrong move to end everything. “This isn’t going to end well.”

“I know.” Keith closed his eyes, tucked his face into the hollow of Shiro’s throat. He smelled like salt and heat, the clean sweat of exertion, and something more, something unique to him alone that Keith never wanted to forget. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Later, there would be a call on Shiro’s cellphone. Lotor would ask too much, and Shiro would run on fumes, but for now, they had this. They were done running.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find Dans [here.](http://itdans.tumblr.com/)  
> Rune's tumblr is [here](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com/) and our joint twitter is [here.](http://twitter.com/runicscribbles)
> 
> Please comment if you enjoyed! Come say hello. :)


End file.
